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UNITED STATES OF AMERIOA. 





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BY MISS BETHAM-EDWARDS. 


17 TO 27 VaNdeWater St 

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: THE / ] 

New York Fireside Companion.^ 


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Essenlially a Paper for tie Honie Circle. j 

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\ I 


DOCTOR JACOB 


By MISS BETHAM-EDWARDS. 




NEW YORIC: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandewatkr Street, 



DOCTOR JACOB 


Four o’clock chimed from the old Dom Tower ot Frankfort on 
the Maine; the sixty- two day-scholars of Fraulein Fink’s institution 
disappeared by^twos and threes; the back gate was closed atter them, 
and the weekly half-holiday commenced. 

Fraulein Fink loved her school, but she could not help breathing 
a sigh of relief as she crossed the square courtyard, around which 
the class-rooms were built; indeed, she even smiled to herself at the 
pleasant prospect ot a leisuie evening, a friend or two to tea in the 
garden, and a nice little display of sweets in their honor. Perhaps 
no inhabitant of the Free City worked harder than did Fraulein 
Fink. From eight in the morning till eight at night she was stren- 
uously and anxiously occupied. A Jesuit striving doggedly after 
the conversion of a heretic may be compared to her; but no other 
workman, and no workwoman, however ardent. Her belief was 
Grammar; her first tenets of faith were the Subject and the Predi- 
cate, the major sentence and the minor sentence. In the cause of 
the latter, she won many a wrinkle and many a gray hair. Daily, 
she woke up to battle tor the Predicate; daily, she girded her loins 
to fight lor the major sentence. 

Next to grammar, Fraulein Fink adored Goethe. Indeed, it would 
be difficult to tell which of the two was the greatest passion of her 
life. She was certainly quite as happy when discussing Wilhelm 
Meister or the Iphigenie with her friend Professor Beer, as when 
giving a lecture on grammatical construction in the first class. 

“ Without a sound mental occupation, or the frequent interchange 
of ideas with a masculine intellect," she would often say, “ no sen- 
sible woman can be happy. My school supplies me with the former 
—my learned friend, R’ofessor Beer, with the latter. 1 would not 
change my condition for the world.’’ 

In spite of such habitual cheerfulness, a life Of unmitigated toil 
and of unceasing crusades for the Predicate began to tell upon 
Fraulein Fink’s kindly features. The lines around her mouth were 
now deep and close; the cheek bones protruded a little, the temples 
sharpened off toward her slightly-silvered auburn hair. There are 
two kinds of vanity: a vanity of beauty and a vanity of ugliness; 
and she possessed the latter. You could not be in her company halt 
an hour without her impressing upon you the tacts of her plainness 
and of her advancing age. She persisted, too, in calling her hair 


4 DOCTOK JACOB. 

red, and to contradict her was almost an offcense— if anything could 
offend so complacent a person. 

' Fifty years of unprotected toil, and a plain face to keep company 
with them, would be an arid waste for the reflection of most women. 
Fraulein Fink could never talk of her past life too often nor too 
cheerfully Der liebe Gott had, indeed, not seen fit to give her a 
husband, but He had bestowed upon her intellect and a sphere of 
usefulness. What woman could be more blessed? This was the 
way in which she reasoned. / 

Having performed her toilet— that is to say, having adjusted aa 
prickly frilling of ribbon across her head, and a couple of rings on 
her freckled fingers, she passed into the landing. Here she paused 
a moment. Five large waidrobes fronted her; one containiug the 
household linen, another the household grocery, another jam, 
pickles, etc. ; applying the keys at her waist to several, she loaded 
herself with tea, china cups, loaf-sugar, and biscuits, finally she 
opened an adjoining door unceremoniously, and cried— 

“ Hannchen, are you ready to set the table?” 

“ In a minute, aunty.” 

And a right bonny girl, with rosy cheeks, bright eyes, abundance 
of braided brown hair, white teeth, and a tall, plump figure, presents 
herself to our view, in the act of aflixing a pink knot to her white 
clrcss 

“ Your white dress, Hannchen!” said the aunt in a voice of dis- 
pleasure; ‘‘ it is surely clean enough for another concert io the Zoo- 
logical Gardens. ” 

Hannchen loved dress, and stood a little in awe of the Fraulein 
Fink. 

“ Indeed, aunly, the stiffness is quite out. Do you remember 
how 1 complained of the bad starch whilst ironing it?— and you do 
like me to look nice when the Frau Directorin comes, don’t you?” 

The last little device worked well. Fraulein Fink changed the 
subject. 

“ Is Miss Macartney out?” 

“ 1 dare say not— that’s the worst of English governesses,” an- 
swered Hannchen, pettishly, ” they never make friends, and are al- 
ways in the house when one doesn’t want them. 1 don’t see, either, 
why you need ask her to take tea with us, aunty; she has had her 
four o’clock bread and fruit with the rest. Let her amuse herself, 
as mademoiselle and Louise do.” 

” My dear Hannchen, IMiss Macartney is an excellent instructress, 
and, unlike most of her countrywomen, can eat anything— her age, 
too, looks well for the school. It would be most unreasonable to 
offend her.” 

Hannchen pouted a little, but said nothing, and the two descend- 
ed by a bach staircase into the garden. Before this, they crossed 
the playground, which, with the pear-trees and benches belonging, 
was tree to the three governesses, five boarders, and sixty-two day- 
scholar.?. Fraulein Fink, Hannchen, and the English governess, 
alone were privileged to enter the w^ell-stored fruit-garden below. 
English governesses never plucked fruit on the sly, or made love to 
idle young gentlemen over the hedge, and they were rewarded ac- 
cordingly, 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


5 


Tea being arranged in tlie summer-house, Hannchen was dis- 
patched to invite Miss Macartney, soon reluming, however, with the 
satisfactory intelligence that that lady had already gone for a walk. 
Whether her governesses went out or stayed at home after school- 
hours, mattered little to the Fraulein Fink; so long astliey appeared 
contented arid kept clear of conspicuous scrapes, she allowed them 
perfect liberty, and felt provoked if they did not avail themselves 
of it. 

Soon came the Frau Directorin. She was a pleasant, portly lad3% 
bearing the same resemblance to her slim young daughter as a fruit- 
laden apple-tree to the five-year-old sapling jrrowing by its side. 
Hannchen and her friend kissed each other warmly ; the two elder 
ladies exchanged plenty of compliments, and as many affectionate 
greetings as if they had not met for ten years, instead of as many 
days. Then the little party sat down to tea. 

“ My dear Frau Directorin," said the schoolmistress (who would 
not have omitted the title for the world), " pray do not measure the 
number of your cups by mine. If the tea is good, enjoy it — but 1 
abstain, and from a motive which you, 1 am sure, will commend. 
To tell 3^011 the truth, tea affects me in the strangest manner — it 
makes me gossip about my neighbors." 

The two girls laughed aloud. Frau Directorin Heinrich reverenced 
the instructress of her daughters highly, and always spoke of her as 
a decidedly intellectual woman, whom few could understand, who 
ought in fact to have lived in the days of Goethe, Schiller, and Her- 
der. She answered, with a good-humored smile — 

‘‘ Indeed! But you never say any harm of your neighbors, dear 
Fraulein Fink, so that it little matters how much you gossip. Your 
tea is excellent, and, even if you do not join me, I will take a sec- 


ond cup." 

Before the second cup was finished, she drew forth a large yellow 
pocket handkerchief and began hemming for the Herr Director; it 
had been purchased a bargain, and must, therefore, be disctissed. 
Then the young ladies produced half-finished stockings and plied 
their knitling-pins. Fraulein Fink alone sat in idleness. She prided 
herself upon using needles and knitting-pins but seldom; other 
women were not born with so decided a capability for Goethe and 
Grammar— let them work to their hearts’ content. 

She leaned back on the garden seat and surveyed her laden plum- 
trees and plentiful lettuce beds with eyes that grew moist with feel- . 
ings of pride and satisfaction. The pleasant garden, and roomy , 
house adjoining, were her own— had been won by school-room 
drudgery— or rather, for we are transcribing her own thoughts now, , 
by dignified and elevating services in the cause of intellectual devel- 
opment. All was quiet, and as the declining sun slanted through 
the interlaced branches overhead, and the risiog breeze watted a 
fruity air around, her heart swelled at the contemplation of her little 
territory. Had her friend Professor Beer been by, she would have 
quoted largely from Goethe; as it was, she descended to the only 
kind of sentimentality in which Frau Directorin Heinrich could 
sympathize. . , , , 

"Ah! my dear Frau Directorin," she said, clasping her hands, 

“ that blue sky — those green trees — Hie serene heavenliness of such 


6 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


an hour and such a scene — what good thoughts does not the dear 
God require ot us for all these! When 1 think of the countless 
hours 1 have spent here, which have been as balm to tired mind 
and limbs, 1 can only say, 1 care not how soon 1 go to the quiet 
God’s-acre, and there rest without fear of a school bell forever!” 

The Frau Directorin said something about her dear father having 
talked in the same way, bless him, years before he died; and what a 
reader of Zschokke he was! 

flannehen remarked that she wanted some cotton at the next fair; 
Elise Heinrich mooted the subject of a coming concert in the Heue 
Anlage, and Fraulein Fink submitted with a sigh to commonplaces. 

I By-and-by the four ladies went indoors to have a little music in 
the drawing-room, the schoolmistress stopping half-way at the 
■ kitchen. 


”1 will give out sausage and apple sauce for the dining-room 
supper,” she said to Lischen the cook, ” and we will have the same 
upstairs; but fetch us beer, fresh rolls and butter — two portions of 
each. Are the ladies in?” 

” The English Fraulein returned a few minutes ago. Mademoi- 
selle and the pupils I haven’t seen.” 

The refectory was a large bare apartment, furnished with some 
rickety chairs, a hoarse and most unpleasant clock, two long tables, 
an old piano, and a couple of racks for books, afternoon doles of 
bread and fruit, etc. This room served both the purpose of refectory 
and place of assembly for the governesses and boarders when school - 
hours were over, and being lighted by a window painted yellow, it 
made every one look very bilious indeed. 

Fraulein Fink peeped in. The English governess sat. with her 
hands clasped over her temples in an attitude that caused the school- 
mistress to start and utter a little scream. Miss Macartney had been 
hitlierto an undemonstrative, sedate, comfortable kind of person. 
Wlmt sudden agony of terror or grief, or pain, had driven the blood 
from her lips, and the clinched hands so fiercely to her brow ! 

“My dear Miss Macartney!” said Fraulein Fink in her unsteady 


The governess rose to her feet and bared her eyes with proud res- 
olution to the inquisitiveness of her employer. They were fine eyes 
having a gleam of Irish passion and poetry in them ; the whole face’ 
too, though the face ot a woman past thirty, was not without 
beauty a beauty perhaps which few would recognize but which 
was real beauty nevertheless. For a deep olive complexion black 
waving hair, and a peculiar curve of rather full red lips, thoigh sel- 
dom popularly received, are often accompanied by a rare power of 

CXpl 0SS1OD. 

as incredulity stayed 

“ What, my dear Miss Macartney?” 

I must leave this house— leave Frankfort, Fraulein Fink ” 
to shore^^^^^^ swelled slowly and surely 


DOCTOK JACOB. 7 

“ What is your meaning? Have you lost your senses, Miss Ma- 
cartney?” 

The English woman sat down calmly. She had seen the school- 
mistress in anger before, and she feared it no more than she feared 
the petulance of the youngest fourth-class scholar. One great fear 
— one great suffering — had caused all others to die within her long 
ago. 

‘‘ 1 know that 1 am acting wrongly toward you,” she said, in a 
quiet voice. ” 1 know that 1 am failing in duty, and therefore los- 
ing my reputation as a governess. Perhaps T may come to want 
bread by the step 1 am about to take. 1 cannot help it-— I must go.” 

You shall not go.” 

” Try and keep me,” answered Miss Macartney, in a mockingly 
civil voice, “try and keep me — all the Senate of Frankfort could 
not do it. ' ’ 

The tide of Fraulein Fink’s wrath had broken on the shore now. 
She faced her, flaming and utterly uncontrollable. 

” 1 will not pay you one kreutzer of salary!” 

” 1 do not expect it. 1 forfeit it knowingly and willingly.” 

” But you cannot and dare not break your engagement with me. 
You would put me in the most awkward position — you would do 
great harm to my school —you would incur upon me expenses of 
which you know nothing — you would be a great loss to me. I have 
influential friends in the city — 1 know two advocates and a member 
of the senate: 1 will go to them and ask if there is no protection 
against such unprincipled dealings — 1 will compel you to remain!” 

Miss Macartney understood Fraulein Fink thoroughly, and liked 
her. She was vexed to hear her rail after this strain, more because 
it lowered the schoolmistress than that it hurt herself; indeed, de- 
spite her powerful mental agitation, she could hardly help being 
amused by it. For some moments the fraulein raged in this w^ay, 
and not till the storm was utterly spent did Miss Macartney speak. 
Then she said, sorrowfully and humbly— 

“ You have been kind to me, Fraulein Fink, and I would rather 
have wronged any one in the world than you — you have said no 
more to me than 1 had expected or deserved of you. I am sorry 
that I was rude. 1 am soiTy that 1 must go — more than ever sorry 
that my going will inconvenience a friend whom 1 esteem.” 

” Why must you go?” asked the schoolmistress, in a milder tone. 
” At least you ought to give me an explanation; that is the least rep- 
aration you can make.” 

Miss Macartney shuddered. 

‘‘ You might as well ask me to go into the streets of Frankfort 
and beg for bread. The one would be as easy to me as Ihe other.” 

“ You have had an intrigue with one of the rich Jew merchants 
living next door, and you fly to escape disgrace. Mademoiselle Lamy 
did the same last year, but hadn’t the modesty to be ashamed, and 1 
dismissed her — tell the truth. Miss Macartney.” 

Fraulein Fink was a coward, and had forgotten for the moment 
that she was dealing with an Englishwoman. When Miss 
Macartney rose and fronted her, she turned pale, and would have 
given two Prussian thalers to recall her hasty words. 


8 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


“ Am 1 capable of disgracing myselt, Fraulein Fink?” said the 
governess, in a determined voice. 

” 1 don’t wish to offend you, but — but really your strange con- 
duct leads me to say things 1 should not otherwise say.” 

‘‘ 1 ask again, and 1 ask with the determination of being answered 
— do you think me capable of disgracing myself?” 

Fraulein Fink wiped the perspiration off her brow, and looked 
around her. No one was in sight, or she would have triea for vic- 
tory a little longer. 

‘‘ Well, my dear Miss Macartney, 1 think not.” 

” Thank you. In future, Fraulein Fink, do not be so ready to 
mention me in conjunction with Mademoiselle Lamy, or her deeds. 
Now, let us have no more quarreling. 1 must go — however much 1 
may regret, however much you may threaten — if we were to talk 
here for twelve hours in succession, it would come to that. But we 
will not be enemies.” 

” Oh! do not go, dear Miss Macartney!” said the schoolmistress, 
with honest tears in her eyes. 

”1 like yon— 1 esteem you— 1 am very sorry!” answered Miss 
Macartney, holding out her hand. ” 1 may go far and not find a 
better friend, God bless you, Fraulein Fink!” 

After a little further talking the two grew quite friendly again. 
Nothing could reconcile Fraulein l ink to her governess’s abrupt de- 
parture; but she was a kindly loving soul, and seldom kept out of 
temper for more than ten minutes. A hearty gush of tears, there- 
fore, with one or two quotations from Goethe, considerably relieved 
her troubled mind, and when she joined the little party upstairs, she 
was able to tell her story and enjoy her supper with almost wonted 
cheerfulness. 

And Miss Macartney! 

Swiftly and noiselessly she sought her humble bedroom— not to 
weep; — oh! no, her tears had ceased flowing long ago; — but to pack 
her trunks in readiness for the next day’s journey. When all was 
finished, she threw herself on the bed and cried aloud — 

‘‘Oh! God, that 1 might die! Can 1 never hide myselt and be in 
peace? Be pitiful, Christ, and let me die!” 


CHAPTER 11. 

By six o’clock, Fraulein Fink was always up and stirring; half 
an hour later, quilts and beds would be hung from all the bedroom 
windows, and hj seven the school-bell rang for coffee. The school- 
mistress preferred to breakfast alone. 

” Without a little tranquil reflection and enjoyment of Nature be- 
fore beginning the day’s duties,” she would say, ‘‘ 1 could never get 
through them. Sipping my fragrant cofl;ee amid the fresh leaves 
and singing birds, with our beautiful Lutheran hymn-book open 
before me, 1 prepare myself for daily trials and difficulties, and also 
for my rest when it pleases God to call me!’ 

Accordingly, every morning Fraulein Pink might be seen in her 
long red dressing-gown and black velvet cape, bearing into the gar- 
den a tray, on which were placed a cup of coffee, a roll, and the 


DOCTOR JACOB, 9 

hymn book of the Frankfort Church. She was no hypocrite. The 
contemplation of her blooming garden, and of some verse from Gel- 
lert or Klopstock, was no more and no less than she represented it to 
be. Her mind had been constituted a sentimental one, and she en- 
couraged the tendency. 

On the morning following Miss Macartney’s disclosure, the good 
lady felt more than usual need of solitary prayer and reflection. 
People had very long tongues in Frankfort, and single women like 
herself were unprotected against them. How should she act so as to 
nrevent unpleasant, perhaps injurious rumors, in consequence of her 
governess’s departure? Above all, how should she act so as to pre-' 
vent thereby pecuniary loss and inconvenience? • 

Now, the fraulein had two counselors to whom she always went 
with her troubles. The first. Professor Beer, who taught literature 
in her classes, was consulted on matters of mental difficulty alone, 
such as the desirability or undesirability of a new theory in eluci- 
dating complex construction of sentences, the necessity of algebra in 
the second class, etc. The second. Dr. Paulus, of whom we shall 
speak by-and-by, was her invariable resource in any perplexity con- 
cerning the practical affairs of life. Dr. Paulus, moreover, as a 
married man, was a more accessible authority than the professor, 
the latter gentleman being a bachelor. 

Loiig before eight o’clock the stream of daj^-scholars began to 
pour in. Having seen that her governesses were at their desks in 
the different class-rooms, that Hannchen awaited her pupils at the 
piano (that young lady needed supervision, 1 assure you), and hav- 
ing courteously'greeted two or three masters in the courtyard, 
Fraulein Fink set off for a consultation with Dr. Paulus. Luckily 
she had no lessons for an hour or two. 

A pleasant walk through the public pleasure grounds led her into 
the open suburb, with gay gardens and white villas on either side. 
Soon she reached a Swiss cottage, having a very large letter-box on 
the gateway, inscribed with the doctor’s name in imposing letters. 

A hostile-looking young woman, slip-shod and rough-haired, 
showed her into the drawing-room, where she had ample time to 
pick and choose her words for the coming interview. Dr. Paulus 
was a Hanoverian, and a man of learning. He spoke the purest 
German, and gave the, clearest, most logical opinions on every sub- 
ject. Fraulein Fink, therefore, felt it to be as much of an effort to 
converse with him as to give a lecture on the predicate; in either case 
she had to clear her thoughts and to weigh her words. 

Meantime, let us see what the doctor is about. His well-smoked, 
well-filled study adjoining the drawing-room is empty; the house- 
maid therefore ascends a second story, and opens the door of a small 
breakfast-room, with an abrupt— 

“ There is a lady below— Fraulein Fink ’’—returning to the kitch- 
en without awaiting further orders. Dr. Paulus at all times inspired 
you with respect; indeed, it would be difficult to imagine any cir- 
cumstances wiiich could make him appear ridiculous. At the mo- 
ment we introduce him he is dressed in a long dressing-gown, and 
has not yet shaved or adjusted his neckcloth; he is also occupied in 
beating up eggs, an occupation which would he rather derogatory to 
the self-dignity and appearance of most men. Dr. Paulus looked 


10 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


every bit as dignified and as learned in the above- mentioned act as 
he did when arguing on the Pentateuch with a long-bearded rabbi 
in the Jewish chamber. His lips were set firmly together, express- 
ing a determination to do the thing completely. He did eyerythirig 
completely, whether it was the making ot a pudding for his invalid 
wife, or the drawing up a statement for the religious society of 
which he was secretary. 

Let us photograph llim for the reader. Dr. Christian Paulus was 
in the prime of life. He was rather below middle height, but never 
^ gave the idea of littleness. He was weakly in health, but obtained 
^general credit for robustness. Women thought him good-looking, 
*' though they found fault with his hair, it being of that black silky 
, kind which clings straight and smooth to the head, and gives an idea 
of shrewdness almost approaching to cunning. Men never spoke of 
his looks. Critically considered, his features were unexceptionable. 
The nose was firmly cut, the brow straight and smooth, the eyes 
bright and penetrating, the mouth was decidedly handsome, and ex- 
pressed an unmistakable resoluteness and rectitude. 

Having taken clerical orders in England, and married an English 
wife. Dr. Paulus cultivated English whiskers, English domesi icities, 
and made English the language ot his children. Whilst the proc- 
ess of egg-beating went on, the following conversation took place 
between the master and mistress of the house, she, poor little lady, 
lyung on a sofa in the adjoining room. 

“ Fraulein Fink must wait, Louisa—Pm determined this pudding 
shall go into the oven so as to be ready for your dinner. Doctors 
are doctors and no more. Had J taken you in hand a few months 
ago, administered port wine, good English chops, etc., 1 believe you 
would have been a strong woman by this time ” 

“ 1 shall never be that,” said a weak, voice from the sofa; ” I 
dare say 1 shall not feel inclined for the pudding after all. Don’t 
trouble about it, Christian.” 

“Nonsense!” replied the doctor, sternly; “the pudding will be 
made, and you will eat it, Fiau Doctor. ” 

In five minutes the eggs and rice were mixed and duly spiced- 
tire cook came to receive orders regarding the baking; Master Freddv’ 
installed by mamma’s sofa, and requested to keep 
watch in quiet till further notice, and Dr. Paulus descended, 
tou Fink some time to tell' her story; she always 

ta kedslowdy’ phrasing her sentences with a complexity of words- 
out to-day-^ she was at extraordinary pains on account of Dr. Paulus 
being her listener. Simple and compound sentences were dove-tailed 

grammatical examples; ejacu- 
lations WCTe accompanied with formal emphasis and pauses-'^ the 
most i^idly classic words were substituted for idiom 



• T- sociological speculation. He euiovod -i miyylp 

hnw mn n V- perhaps no man better, and he knew 


DOCTOli JACOB. 


11 


When Fraiilein Fink had finished speaking, he rubbed his chin, 
folded the skiits ot his dressing-gown neatly over his knees, crossed 
his arms, and said, with a smile — 

“You have not allowed the lady to go— of course, Fraulein 
Fink?” 

“ She goes after dinner — how can 1 prevent it, HerrPfarrer? She 
requires no salary — we are under no bond — ” 

The doctor regarded her almost contemptuously, 

“ You must at least know whither she goes. Very strange things 
have happened within the last few years in this city, Fraulein link, 
especially among the English— please bear that tact in mind, the 
lady is English. 1 entertain the greatest respect for my adopted 
country, but it is a known fact that very ordinary specimens of the 
nation come abroad.” 

“ Gott im Himmel!” cried the poor schoolmistress; “what is to 
be done? Consider, Herr Pfarrer, my difficulties. In the first place, 
I have to lose, perhaps with loss of pupils, certainly with extra per- 
sonal exertion and great inconvenience, an excellent English in- 
structress, a perfect mistress of style and s^mtax. Secondly, 1 have 
to rid myself of an unpleasant remembrance, which will for some 
time spoil my enjoyment of God's nature and my tranquil fulfill- 
ment of duty, and to spend perhaps three Prussian thalers in ad- 
vertising.” 

Again the doctor smiled. It amused him to watch the workings 
of other people’s minds, and to compare their conclusions on a given 
subject with his own. He liked to feel himself master of any new 
chain of circumstances, especially circumstances centered in one in- 
dividual. Fraulein Fink should henceforth be left to her own 
opinions on the matter. Accordingly, taking out a note-book from 
his pocket, he said— 

“ Oblige me by answering one or two questions, Fraulein Fink. 

You are aware that my position as secretary to the C Society 

throws me into frequent contact with all the English who reside or 
visit here. Perhaps at some future time 1 may discover a clew to 
this perplexing occurence. First, then the name, age, and country 
of your governess?” 

Fraulein Fink answered concisely. 

“ Then the exact time of her coming to Frankfort, the date of her 
leaving, and her proposed destination. Has she named the latter to 
you?” 

“ She only asked me to bespeak a porter to carry her luggage to 
the railway station.” 

“ At what time?” 

“ Six o’clock— her lessons being then over.” 

“H’m!” 

After a few minutes’ pause he added; 

“I will come and speak to this lady, Fraulein Fink, and see what 
my persuasions can do ; and 1 dare say 1 shall be able to find you a 
suitable English governess without the necessity of advertisinL’’. In- 
deed, 1 know a young lady — ” 

At this juncture the hostile-looking housemaid above mentioned 
butted into the room, headforemost, and put a card into the doctor’s 
hand. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


12 

lie looked at it attentively, held it close to his eyes, and scrutinized 
the address; then laid it down, and composedly finished his business 
with Fraulein Fink. That good lady having bowed herself out, all 
cheerfulness and grammatical elegance, again Dr. Paulus took up the 
card. After a second and still more inquisitive scrutiny, he repeated 
the name aloud, as if to make sure whether it was strange to him 
or not— 

“ The Beverend Di\ Jacob.” 

\ 

CHAPTER 111. 

I 

Dr. Paultjs entered the study with the conviction that he should 
find there some needy member of his Church seeking a chaplaincy in 
the Rhine provinces. Many a young brother he had helped to his 
wishes, and many, alas I he had been obliged to send away disap- 
pointed. To-day he knew of no opening, and it pained him to an- 
ticipate a sad face. 

It struck him no less with surprise than with reverence, when he 
saw a majestic old man who looked as it need or humbling appeal 
had never come within the range of his experiences. Dr. Jacob 
stood up, and introduced himself with the quiet cordiality of one 
who knows that his cordiality is seldom given in vain. No wonder 
Dr. Paulus felt a little taken aback, a little lessened, in fact, by the 
stranger’s side. 

A handsome man at sixty, we may safely say, is more nobly, im- 
posingly handsome than a handsome man at thirty. Soft silvered 
hair gives such wondrous calmness and grandeur to the features, 
especially if they be regular and commanding, and the complexion 
hate a tone of vigorous manliness about it. Dr. Jacob possessed 
every possible physical advantage — a fine, well-posed head, six feet 
two inches of height, fine sensitive eyes, a clear healthful coloring, 
an English pair of shoulders, and the easiest, gracefulmost carriage 
in the world. 

Dr. Paulus, despite his missing neckcloth, his well-worn dressing- 
gown floured at the elbows, and for the most part buttonless (for the 
Fiau Doctor was ailing and incapable at all times), impressed his 
visitor not slightly. He was a gentleman— he was learned— he was 
a man of keen understanding;— thus much the Rerevend Dr. Jacob 
read at a glance. 

Settling himself cozily in the arm-chair assigned to him by his host, 
he said in a remarkably clear, sonorous voice — 

“ 1 presume, my dear doctor, that coming, as 1 do, from the con- 
sul, you will not wish to be troubled with any letters of introduction 
on my part?” 

Dr. Paulus bowed deprecatingly. He respected the consul, and 
was ever willing to serve him. 

” 1 hear, however,” continued Dr. Jacob, “ that you are the very 
person to advise me on the matter of delivering them elsewhere 
Coming here, a clergyman of the Church of England, and a servant 
in the same good cause as yourself, even were 1 without the influen- 
tial testimonials that 1 possess, to whom else should 1 apply so fitly?” 

” Coming in want and difficulty, coming under any circumstances. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


13 


a servant of the good cause would find a hearty welcome from me," 
said Dr. Paulus, warmly. “ Give me your hand, sir.” 

The two rose, clasped hands, and sat down again in a very friend- 
ly mood. Dr. Jacob was the first to speak. 

” 1 am not officially connected with the Society for converting the 
Jews,” he said, rather humbly; “to confess the truth, my cir- 
cuiustances are such as woukl not allow me, with a quiet conscience, 
to accept any appointment which might be the livelihood of some 
younger and needier man. 1 have no family to provide for— I am 
old — why should 1 stand in the light of others?” 

Dr. Paulus folded his dressing-gown more smoothly over his 
knees, looking on its fiowered pattern meantime. He was a just 
man, just to the value of a farthing, to the hired value of a minute; 
approving of the precept, “ The laborer is worthy of his hire,” and 
he said so. 

“ My dear brother,” replied the older man, leaning back in his 
chair, ” perhaps there is less self-denial in my statement than you 
may suppose. True, that 1 have earned no guineas for myself 
throughout the course of my services — true, that 1 have earned some 
Imndreds for ihe good cause, but 1 have had the privilege of work- 
ing in my own way. 1 am impatient under shackles; the little good 
1 can do in this earthly life, 1 prefer to do freely and originally. 
And now, to come to explanations. For many years, 1 may say, 
indeed, for the greater part of my life, 1 have regarded the conver- 
sion of Ihe Jews as one of the most important and obligatory duties 
of oui Church; and on returning from the East a short time since, 
I constituted myself as a special missionary to Jerusalem. It seemed 
to me a rational and not unworthy Christian speculation, to strike a 
decisive blow at the very nucleus of that great evil — Judaism; a 
few zealous voluntary workers have been often found to do the work 
of a large enlisted corps; at any rate, there is room enough for all. 
To Jerusalem, therefore, I am bound now — there 1 shall most prob- 
ably die.” ^ 

He watched the effect of this statement upon his listener with 
placid curiosity. Dr. Paulus looked up, but there was nothing to 
read in his face. 

A long pause followed, at the end of which the latter said in a 
business-like way, — 

” The idea is a grand one; you only require funds to carry it out.” 

1 require power,” said his visitor. 

” You require power," repeated Dr. Paulus. 

Both threw a strange emphasis on the latter word, as if they knew 
what it meant, as if it tasted sweet to their mouths. Their eyes met, 
they studied each other for a couple of seconds, and not in vain. 

Dr. Jacob continued — 

“ Having obtained such liberal encouragement from high official 
authorities at home, it is not unnatural that 1 expect some help 
abroad. My route lies through the Rhine provinces, Wurtemberg, 
Bavaria, Austria, and Turkey— surely the English residents of the 
towns through which 1 pass will not refuse sympathy.” 

“And contributions,” put in Dr. Paulus, for he was a severely 
pradical man, always setting before him the material no less than 
the moral relations of things. 


14 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


“ 1 confess that my private means, however well economized, 

will not prove adequate to my needs, my dear sir,” answered the 
other quietly; ” and such an undertaking cannot subsist on itself--- 
it must be supported. 1 wull, if you please, read a report 1 have 
drawn up concerning my proposed plan, and the difficulties and 
exigencies it is likely to encounter. Also, with your permission, 1 
will leave for your perusal one or two private letters from the Bishop 
of N on the subject.” 

Jacob’s voice had a deep, sweet-toned ring in it, which would 
have made anything worth listening to; but the paper proved to be 
clear, concise, and highly interesting in itself. It was Dr. Paulus’s 
habit, moreover, alwa3’S to listen, never to hear; and every word of 
the report impressed itself faithfully on his memory. 

“You are an excellent statistician, but an incomparable advo- 
cate,” he said, when the reading was over. ‘‘ Now the way to fill 
your purse — ” 

“To increase the funds of the mission,” politely suggested the 
other. 

“ I beg your pardon. Yes, the way to increase the funds of your 
mission would be to put those arguments into a sermon.” 

Dr. Jacob’s face lit, and he answered eagerly— 

“Exactly, 1 must preach here. ” 

He w^aited for a minute or two, then finding that Dr. Paulus was 
not likely to take the initiative, added in his usual tone — 

“Of course there could be no objection to this?” 

“ You know our English chaplain?” asked Dr. Paulus, quickly. 

“ Not at all. But I intend calling on him this very afternoon — 
indeed, 1 also intended to ask if you would favor me with your com- 
pany, and afterward dine in my apartment at the Hotel de Russie.” 

“ You arc very kind, but 1 never dine out. I’he fact is, my poor 
wife is a great invalid, and to carve for six children would be quite 
beyond her strength^ 1 will, however, gladly accompany you to 
Mr. Brill’s.” 

“ And j’-ou will not refuse to introduce nie to Mrs. Paulus?” 

The good husband hesitated. His wife was as yet probably en 
‘papUhtes, and being pretty and interesting, never received visitors 
before she had undergone a curling operation from the hands of 
Lina, her maid. Any slight surprise or agitation w-as apt to bring 
on a fit of faintness and flushes; prudently, therefore. Dr. Paulus 
promised nothing, but quitted the room to ascertain how matters 
stood. 

During his absence. Dr. Jacob fell into a reverie. It must have 
been a pleasant one, from the light in his eyes and the smile on his 
lips. Once he stood up and looked out of the window. To the 
right and to the left were handsome villas, each the representative of 
so much wealth and so much influence; beyond these rose the gray 
old Eschenheimer Thor, and the massive Dorn, and the shinin^ 
roofs of the rich free city. 

Dr. Jacob looked on this pleasant prospect with the triumphant 
expression of a conqueror. When his host entered, the look bad not 
passed from his face. 

“ My wife is awaiting the pleasure of an iniioduction— 1 am soiry 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


15 


we are obliged to make so much ceremony about it,” said the latter, 
apologetically, and forthwith led the way to Louisa’s sitting-room. 

It was a pretty boudoir enough ; Dr. Paulus had everything of the 
plainest and most unpretending kind in his own apartment and the 
children’s, but the Frau Doctor could never have too much that was 
elegant, and tasteful, and delicate around her. She wore white, too, 
another element in the general airiness of the room, and being small, 
fair, and fragile, looked the very palest primrose ever put in a beau- 
tiful vase. A sturdy little fellow, dressed in a plain cotton pinafore, 
sat on the foot of rnamma’s sofa, wearing the demurest face in the 
world. Dr. Jacob’s manner showed at once that he felt a great in- 
terest in the little lady. He asked a dozen questions about the baths 
she had tried, Ihe physicians she had employed, and the benefiis re- 
spectively derived from both. He even felt her pulse, and suggested 
a stimulant, with the affectionate solicitude of an old friend. Then 
he took Freddy to his knees, and began petting him in the way so 
agieeable to most papas and mammas. This, however, did not do. 
Dr. Paulus never allowed his children to be petted. 

“ You may go down-stairs to the nursery, sir, till mamma wants 
you,” he said, with a voice that the most fractious child would not 
have dared to disobey, and Freddy slipped out quietly. 

” Our children don’t get spoiled. Dr. Jacob. I have quite enough 
to do to spoil her,"' added the master of the house, pointing to his 
wife; ” and children grow neither faster nor better for it.” 

” 1 agree with you in theory, but 1 confess to an habitual failing in 
practice,” replied Dr. Jacob; ‘‘children are so attractive and lov- 
able even in their very naughtiness, that it requires a great amount 
of self-denial to correct them.” 

Dr. Paulus changed the subject. He did not approve of the sen- 
timent, and he was as yet too unacquainted with the propounder of 
it to dissent on his own grounds. After some further conveisation, 
the visitor left, first promising to meet Dr. Paulus at the Caffe 
Milan! in the afternoon. 

When he was gone Mrs. Paulus broke into an exclamation of de- 
light. 

” What a fine old man, Christian! and how kind and interested he 
is in everything!” 

Dr. Paulus made no reply, being in deep thought. Louisa knew 
that she had no powder to read his thoughts, and awaited an avowed 
opinion silently, 

. “ A fine character — a powerful character, no doubt, Louisa;” and 

' having said this much, the doctor mused again. 

' Louisa leaned back languidly on the sofa cushion, applied the 
scent-bottle to her nose, and drew a deep sigh. 

“ xYre you in pain?” cried her husband, breaking from his reverie ; 
” are you faint or cold‘ri’ 

‘‘ Nothing, only the usual terrible weakness — don’t mind me, 
Cliristiau.” 

” But I 'Lcill mind you, Frau Doctor. Will you have a little wine? 
—would you like a carriage for half an hour’s drive?— what ^could 
you like?” 

” Nothing would do me the slightest good. 1 am used to these feel- 
ings, and must bear them.” 


16 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


She closed her eyes, and the doctor watched her sorrowtully. He 
possessed deep religious feelings; his daily life was in keeping with 
the simplest and soundest principles ot his church; his cheerful ac- 
ceptance of the gooa as well as the evil of the world seldom flagged. 
But the sight of that pale face, whose beauty had been the one treas- 
ured flower of his life, often caused him to say bitterly — 

“ Would that 1, or that one of my children had been stricken — 
would that the Almighty had seen fit to visit me with any other 
affliction but this!” I 

By and by, Louisa asked — I 

” Who is this Dr. Jacob? When will you spare time to tell me 
all about him, Christian?” ' 

The doctor spared time then and there; it was an unusual thing, 
for him to do, for very few indifferent husbands communicated so 
little to their wives as this devoted one did. Women were not made 
for business — they were not made for government — they were not 
made for judgment — they were not made for deliberation— least of 
all, were they made for reading character. 

Such was the theory ot Dr. Paulus regarding the capabilities of 
the gentler sex— a theory that would not do very well in England, 
but made him no enemies in Germany. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Dr. Jacob, meantime, was taking a leisurely and circuitous route 
to the city. Leaving behind him the majestic Eschenheimer Thor, 
with its sugar loaf tower and pointed buttresses, he turned into an 
alle.y of acacias, pausing every now and then to admire some elegant 
villa on his left, or to smile at some group of children pla3ing in the 
gardens on his right. The full glow of the mid-day sky, the deli- 
cious softness and elasticity of the atmosphere, the superb leafage 
overhead, and the scents of flowers around, all helped to exhilarate 
his mind, and to make his pulse beat with a younger and more 
vigorous life. 

Dr. Jacob, like most men of strong mental power and fine nervous 
susceptibilities, was ever peculiarly alive to outward impressions. 
An American poet says — 

“ What so rare as a day in June?” 

and no one could have followed up his words to their fullest mean- 
ing better than Dr. Jacob. To him a soft air was as rich wine, a 
deep sky with no clouds in sight, more than a lovely subject of con- 
templation; both were as so much tangible happiness received into 
his innermost nature. He was utterly dependent on sensuous en- 
joyment, and could not understand any man being able to live with- 
out it. A simpl}" intellectual idea was be.yond his conception; there 
must be life, warmth, beauty about it to impress, much more, to 
attract him. Therefore, he loved music, painting, and sculpture be- 
yond the best books, and though a critic in art and an artist in feel- 
ing, would cling partially to those artistic developments which have 
for their end pleasure only. 

Thus, enjoying to his utmost the unbroken sky, the white villas, 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


17 


and glistening green leaves, he sauntered on till he came to the 
I’riedburger Thor. There he saw before him the modest little lodge 
belonging to Herr Bethman’s garden, the one so celebrated for the 
marble Loveliness enshrined there, the other for its terrible story of 
hlood and revenge. Dr. Jacob had heard of Dannecker’s Ariadne 
with the lively curiosity of an art lover, and had shuddered more 
than most strong men would do, at the incident of poor Lichnow- 
sky’s concealment and frightful death during the troubles of 1848. 
He delermined to see the Ariadne. 

Mr. Gibson has done a great deal toward breaking down the 
phalanx of purists in sculpture. He has proved that a Venus just 
warmed with the most delicate tints of life can be as lovely, as be- 
witchinsT, as much of a goddess and moic of a woman, than the 
same beautiful creation in the simple grandeur of colorless marble. 
AVe feel that the sculptor is a crusader, and a bold one, but we fear 
that few of his followers will go in his track, or will by any track 
reach the real Jerusalem, as he has done. Feeling this, and im- 
pressed by the conviction that true art can never be left enough to 
itself, can never, in fine, be too severely true, we would rather see 
Dannecker’s Ariadne in the clear light of heaven. 

The rosmess shed on it is a trick that only leads us to undervalue 
the real Beauty for an ideal one. Is not the real beauty enough of 
itself? 

Dr. J.acob stood in silent enthusiasm before the statue. He was 
disgusted at the pink curtains drawn around it, and provoked at the 
young woman in attendance for wheeling it in a circle for his bene- 
fit. But the mystic beautiful period of Grecian godhead and godlike 
love was embodied there, and he suffered his fancy to give rapturous 
life to the embodiment. 

The daughter of Pasiphae is no longer forsaken and despairing 
from the neglect of Theseus; another younger, mote loving, more 
lovel}', has made her heart glow and her eyes soften. She forgets 
the faithlessness of the one whom she loved in the fondness of him 
who will save her from all that is evil. Dionysus is coming, and 
she meets him reclining on the panther. Beautiful, eager, yet calm, 
she looks for him, sees him; in another moment his kisses will be 
on her expectant lips; the happiness will be all his own which is 
half hers now. One can almost see the lovely bosom swell in its 
joy, and hear a word of greeting break from the parted lips. AVbat 
womanly tenderness, what godlike tranquillity, what serene loveli- 
ness must have been present to the eyes and heart of the old Suabinn 
artist! 

“ 1 wonder how Dannecker, being a South German, and accus- 
tomed to such homely tjqies of beauty, ever conceived anything so 
charming!” thought Dr. Jacob, as he turned away. ” Bah! that is 
a ghastly cast of that hot-headed, wretched JJehnowsky! AVhen lu; 
said to his companion, ‘Never mind those dogs!’ speaking of the 
street mob, he little thought that the same dogs would hunt him like 
blood-hounds to the death.” 

Thus musing, he gave a handsome gratuity to the attendant, and 
])assed out of the pavilion. A few streets where the houses were 
built after the fashion of old Frankfort, and where numbers of 
workmeu and their wives were dinitig, and horses were being shod 


18 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


suh dio, led into the Zeil, that handsome street which is at once city 
and West End, Eotten Row and Fleet Street, to the Free City. The 
Zeil is alwa3''s ga}’-; there the rich Jewish families dash by in their 
shining carriages ; the young merchants delight to exercise their fine 
horses; white-coated Austrian officers stroll arm-in-arm with the 
Frankforters in dark-gieen and red uniforms; the Biirgermaster’s 
equipage, with its civic eagle and laced trappings, and grand serv- 
ants wearing cocked hats and long blue coats faced with gold, helps 
to give variety to the scene; open fiacres, full of English fourists, 
are driven calmly by cabmen who are known by their red waistcoats 
and glazed hats — and by their civility. All is light-hearted life and 
. enjoyment. 

i Crossing over to the old guard-house, where a group of Prussian 
soldiers were playing at pitch halfpenny, and eating apples. Dr. 
Jacob sauntered leisurely dowm the shady side of the street. The 
specialty of the Zeil is its shops of antiquities, and the luxuries most 
dear to Dr. Jacob’s heart were rare bijouterie. At the first display 
of mediaeval jewelry and battered plate, he stopped; at the second 
he put his band on the door as if to enter; the third, he entered with- 
out pause or consideration. A drinking cup inlaid with uncut 
gems, and having exquisitely grotesque medallions on the sides, bad 
taken his fancy, and he was not in the habit of controlling his fan 
cies. 

The English shopkeeper is civil; the German shopkeeper is 
friendly. The former is quite satisfied if you buy his article, pay 
jmur money, and say good-morning— he has no time for anything 
else. The latter asks more than he will take, expects and likes a 
little bargaining, receives yonr lowest bid good-naturedly, and gos- 
sips leisurely over the negotiations; his customers are generally in 
no greater huriy than himself, and both arrive at conclusions 
slowly. 

Dr. Jacob liked this way of doing business; he was inquisitive, 
moreover, regarding the Frankfort people. He seated himself com- 
fortably therefore, played with a trayful of rings on the counter, and 
chatted meantime. 

“And what about my countrymen?” he asked, smiling rather 
slyly; “ are there many here just now?” 

“ There will be more later— the Rhine season has hardly com- 
menced yet— the English like the Rhine,” said the jeweler, smiling 
also. " 

“ But what kind of English come here to live? Are they rich? 
Are they liked?” 

“ To tell you the truth, a good many come who don’t pay their 
debts,” half whispered the shopman, evidently enjoying a few facts 
to liimself. 

I )r. Jacob winced. 

“Ah!” 

And a good many who haven’t paid their debts at home.” 

“ Terrible!” 

“ And a few who have left worse things than debts behind them.” 

Di-. .Jacob winced again. 

“ But the rich?” 


DOCTOK' JACOB. 


10 


“ Of course 1 am not saying tlieie are no rich English here. A 
wealthy Englishman has just purchased a villa at Bockenheim — ” 

“Ha! — his name?” 

“Wood.” 

“ Dr. Paulus will most probably know him,” mused Dr Jacob, 
aloud. The jeweler caught up his words. 

“ Dr. Paulus knows everybody, and everybody knows him. Many 
English who come here are in mortal terror of Di. Paulus, 1 assure 
you.” 

Tlie clergyman’s face lit. 

“ 1 imagined so. Dr. Paulus is a clever man.” 

“ He is more than clever. He is as good as St. Paul and as deep 
as the devil — so people say, and 1 believe them. Many a bill has 
been paid through his mediation which never would have been paid 
otherwise; we tradesmen would run our legs ofi to serve him.” 

“ You will take ten florins less for the cup — 1 have a fancy for 
such things and ma}'' come in again,” said Dr. Jacob, abruptly, lay- 
ing his well-filled purse on the counter; “ send it to the Hotel de 
Russie, and — ” 

All at once his eye was arrested by a ring that he had inadvert- 
ently pushed off the tray. A curious expression of surprise and in- 
credulity passed over his face, followed by a slight pallor; then he 
exclaimed in a liard voice — 

“ Where did you get that?” 

“ Really 1 forget— so many of these things are constantly passing 
through my hands ; but 1 have another of the same kind, far hand- 
somer, and not much higher in price. This is marked with an 
initial, you observe, which most people object to.” 

“ What initial?” 

The question was asked slowly, and as if at some cost to the 
speaker. 

“E.” 

Dr. Jacob rose to his feet and stood for some minutes looking out 
of the window. When he turned, his voice had regained its usual 
clear tone. 

“You may put the ring with the cup. How much do 1 owe 
you?” 

When the account was settled, Dr. Jacob left the shop, and pro- 
ceeded on his way. He looked in no more windows. With his fine 
head slightly bent forward, and his lips moving nervously, as il 
some impatient thought were forcing itself into articulation, he has- 
tened through the newly-called Schiller Platz, by the Caterina 
Church, and the crowded shop-windows of Jiigel, nor passed till he 
reached the Caff^-Milani. 


CHAPTER V. 

You cannot find a house in suburban Frankfort which is not ele- 
gant or, at least, tasteful, and the Reverend Mr. Brill’s was no ex- 
ception. He occupied a charming villa fronting the blue Taunus 
hills, and the fruitful strip of country stretching toward Homburg. 
To the right and to the left, undulated those blooming pleasaunces 
which make the fair Free City like a May- day queen; whilst the 


ao 


DOCTOR .TACOB. 


tasIiionaWe Zoological Garden lay behind Tlie whole town offered 

nflivelier or more aristocratic site; Mrs. Briil often recalled the lat- 

'“Trliltirsdf wt“itern with ntost modern German ont^ 
— with pure white walls, landfill moldings, gilt balconies hung 
with seeping flowers, plenty of light, and space, and height a gay 
JarderatStefed, and ’a‘snntfer. house in 

pointed roof and tiellised sides, overlooking the street. We imagine 
this description will answer for many. 

Inside all was no less compact, but a little the worse lor want of 
feminine supervision. For instance, every floor was divided from 

the staircase by glass doors, the panelings of which had been origi- 
nally painted in delicate white and gold arabesques. A as! the panes 
were cracked, broken, and dingy, and the painted P^^^ls looked sad- 
ly suggestive of children’s finger-nails, and naughty boys hoop- 
sticks! We do not deny that the furniture was handsome; but we 
affirm that a satin sofa will look less elegant if a ragged stocking 
or two lie on it, and a child’s soiled pinafore protrude from under 
the pillow; and we may be fastidious, but we imagine a dming-ioom 
is not the fittest place for a lady to sort linen in; nor can we recon- 
cile ourselves to a breakfast cloth, crumby, greasy, spotty, being left 
on the table “ from morn till noon— from noon till dewy eve. 

The two gentlemen were ushered into Mr. Brill s study— that 
apartment partaking less of the elegance, but also less ot the above- 
mentioned drawbacks, than the other two. True, that Di. Paulus, 
having seated himself incautiously, rose up with an exclamation of 
irritation, and found that a bundle ot dressmaker’s work, with ob- 
jectionable implements sticking upward, was lying on the chair. 
This, however, was a trifle. , -i i 

Soon dashed in a pretty, -yvnld-looking girl of twelve, showily but 
slatternly dressed, and holding a huge bunch of keys. 

Dr. Paulus was no more disposed to spoil other people’s children 
than his own; he had, moreover, always held a high hand in the 
Brill house. . . . , 

“ Send your papa to me, Plory — at once,” he said, authoritatively. 

Miss Flory liked to try for victory. 

“ Oh, Dr. Paulus! do wait a minute. I want you to tell^ me where 
we can get good tea; we have had shocking stuff from Schmidt’s, 
and so dear! 1 won’t go there again.” 

“ Do you not sec that this gentleman is waiting to speak to your 
papa?” reiterated the doctor. “ Go immediately!” 

Flory ran into the dining-room, red and indignant. 

” How 1 hate Dr. Paulus! Papa, don’t hurry!— let him wait and 
cool his temper. He has brought a gentleman with him, too, that 
will make him ten times crosser.” 

Mrs. Brill was one of those women who are always handsome, 
often slovenly, and not easily trodden underfoot by the worlu; she 
knew that her husband had less decision of character than most men, 
and she knew that Dr. Paulus had more. Therefore she aspired to 
the difficult policy of subserving the latter to the former 'Where ad- 
vantage accrued, and battling against both on all other occasions. 
Dr. Paulus had proved a true friend to Mrs. Brill many and many 
a time, and she felt sure that he would never prove an enemy; but 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


21 


lie often acted the nnpleasaiit role of monitor — this was the thorn in 
her side. Strive, lose her strength in the strife, as she might. Dr. 
Paulus’s unassailabiiity was as a rock against a broken sea, and had 
she been bad at heart she must have hated him. As it was, she re- 
spected, feared — and provoked him. 

Patting down her newspaper, and adjusting her half-fastened col- 
lar and ribbons, she said, coolly, 

“ Wait for me, Tom, my dear. I shall have you doing and saying 
all sorts of indiscreet things, if you go in by yourself. Plory, have 
you unpacked the grocery?” 

” Yes, mamma, and my next business is to go and get out some 
clean things for the boys and help Carline to boll down the bilbeiry 
jam.” 

“Can’t you find time for a little writing and piano practice?” 
urged Mr. Brill, a rather pleasant, but helpless gentleman, who looked 
as it he were always trying to see his way through impossibilities; 
“ do let her play on the pianoforte, my dear.” 

“ What’s the good? 1 played enough at her age — would you care 
for me to do it now, Tom? Come, let us see what the doctor has to 
say.” 

The husband and wife entered together, looking, as they really 
were, a fine pair, and as light-hearted as it such things as duns and 
executions did not exist. They received Dr. ,;taco'b with no less 
cordiality than they received every English stranger, feeling that 
such cordiality might afterward prove to be so much money laid out 
at good interest. This calculation can hardly be called a peculiarity 
of the Reverend Thomas and Mrs. Brill, llow many worthy souls 
there are, who scarcely trouble themselves to give a shake of the 
hands without first asking themselves — cui hono? 

Having simply performed the ceremony of introduction. Dr. Pauhis 
left Dr. Jacob to play out his ovvn game; had he doubted the latter’s 
capability or coolness, he would have made an advantageous move 
for him at once. But he saw that he was ready at emergencies and 
skillful at maneuvers, so he sat by in silent expectation. 

Blowly and securely, knocking down with every sentence some 
possible or probable objection, Dr. Jacob advanced to his object, 
wheeled round it, touched it softly, then drew back, built plausi- 
' bilities and pleasantnesses around it, threw a halo of benevolence 
and pity over it, finally let a little fragrance of personal advantage 
play within reach of it— then ceased and dashed the light of his fear- 
less spirited eyes full on his hearers. 

Dr. Paulus mentally clapped his hands. Mr. Brill smiled inward- 
ly, thinj^ing that the affair nmuld be very nice and popular indeed; 
before assenting, however, he looked at his wife. 

Her eyes expressed a dozen objections at once; they nudged him, 
made faces at him, spurred him, whipped him up to the hedge of 
opposition. 

“ Perhaps before accepting this gentleman’s proposal, you and 1 
had better talk it over, my dear— eh?” said her husband, perplexed. 

“Upon my word. Brill,” exclaimed Dr. Paulus, sharply, “you 
consult ]\[rs. Brill’s opinion about what the cleverest lady can possi- 
bly know nothing— why trouble her on the matter? The question 


2^ DOCTOR JACOB. 

is: Do you object, or do you believe in any objection existing, to Di*. 
Jacob’s preaching in your pulpit, tor the benefit of the Jews?’ 

Mr. Brill was now fairly driven into a corner. He knew that no 
objection did exist, least of all in his own mind, but with Mrs. 
Brill’s eyes fixed so defiantly on him, he dared not say so. She 
came to the rescue. , . i 

“ I do not like to contradict you, dear Dr. Paulus, but 1 do think 
that on this matter 1 am allowed to have an opinion. ” 

“And on any other matter whatever, Mrs. Brill,” answered the 
doctor, with somewhat bitter suavity. • 

“ Then listen, if you please. As Mr. Brill’s wife, I am^ surely 
supposed to care for his interest, and also to know what is likely to 
prove well or ill for him.” 

Dr. Paulus smiled satirically. 

“ And,” continued the lady, hotly, “ not doubting that Dr. Jacob 
would preach admirably, and that his object is a most laudable one, 

1 still say that there are objections.” 

“ ^^hat may they be?” 

“ You shall hear, Dr, Paulus. In the first place, the more elo- 
quently a strange clergyman should preach here, and the greater the 
impression made by him, so much the worse would it be tor Tom — 
Mr. Brill.” 

“ How so?” asked Dr. Paulus, quietly. 

“ Why did it lessen my husband’s influence, when Mr. Laurence 
preached for several Sundays? Did not people begin to grumble 
and talk about complaining of the chaplain’s doctrines? Excuse 
me. Dr. Jacob, tor speaking plainly — Mr. Biill has a large family, 
and a great many enemies.” 

“People who are indifferent to me, my dear,” said Mr. Brill, 
correctively. 

“ People who would see you turned out of your chaplaincy to- 
morrow, if it were possible,” added the wife, with impatience. 

“ Any enthusiasm for another clergyman, therefore, must be disad- 
vantageous to us. Dr. .lacob. 1 am sorry to say, an ill spirit exists 
among the English here — everyone is jealous of everyone, and no 
two families live together in harmony.” 

“ 1 know many families who live in harmony, Mrs. Brill,” put 
in Dr. Paulus. 

“ Yes— German families; that is quite another thing.” r 

Dr. Jacob now changed the subject, with the mild disappointed I 
look of a man who suffered with ids cause. He chatted leisurely ‘ 
with Mrs. Brill on various topics, and found her witty and entertain- 
ing— a little imaginative, perhaps, in describing people and tldngs, 
but not ill-natured on the whole. Half an hour passed thus, at the 
end of which the two gentlemen took their leave, Mr. Brill first 
promising to pay Dr. Jacob a visit during the week. 

“Perhaps you will sup or dine with us to-morrow,” said Mrs. 
BriJ, graciously. “ You and my husband can then discuss the mat- 
ter of •p^’eaching. We shall be delighted to introduce you into our 
little circle of acquaintances, and to make your stay in Frankfort 
agreeable.” 

Dr. Jacob bowed with a pleased smile as he drew on his delicate 


DOCTOE JACOB. 23 

kid gloves. Dr. Paulus lingered behind to whisper in Mr. Brill’s 
ear, 

“ Do, my dear fellow, send Flory to school. It is not only your 
duty to do so as a father, but as a Christian. For the hundredth 
time, let me urge this upon yon.” 

“ 1 will — 1 really will after the autumn holidays,” said Mr. Brill, 
earnestly; but he had said the same sort of thing as earnestly over 
and over again, and Flory was still at home. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The two gentlemen parted on the Zeil; Dr. Jacob entered the 
Hotel de Russie; Dr. Paulus turned down the Allerheiligen street 
toward the Fraulein Fink’s. 

It was just four o’clock as he passed through the school-gate, and 
the upper garden buzzed with merry voices; most of the young 
ladies had rolls of bread and baskets of fruit in their hands, half an 
hour being now allowed for such refreshment. Dr. Paulus made 
himself at home everywhere, and without entering the hall-door, 
coolly walked round the quadrangle, looking in at all the class-room 
windows. The fourth was empty, save for one weeping mite of six 
years, who had a punishment lesson to learn; the third resounded 
with the laughter of the housemaid, with whom the French govern- 
ess was enjoying a gossip; he then looked into the refectory which 
divided the upper from the lower classes. There he found Hannchen 
in the act of very quickly demolishing a bunch of grapes, the same 
having been gathered without her aunt’s permission. 

‘‘Good-day, fraulein. Will you tell me where 1 can find the 
English lady — your aunt fancies my mediation may be of some good. 
Has Constance been attentive to-day at her music?” 

‘‘ Constance is always attentive,” answered Hannchen, pocketing 
the half- plucked bunch of grapes. ” It is very kind of you to come, 
Herr Pfarrer — I believe Miss Macartney is here.” 

And opening the door of the immense firat-class room, she left the 
two together. You will perceive that Hannchen always found some 
happy way of slipping out of disagreeable encounters. 

Dr. Paulus could not feel exactly distant to any one who had long 
been in daily intercourse with his daughter Constance, and who had 
once or twice taken tea at his house, so he held a cordial hand to the 
Englishwoman, saying pleasantly, 

‘‘ You are going to leave Frankfort, Miss Maeartney, and 1 am 
sorry to hear it. Fraulein Fink will not easil}' find so indefatigable 
a lady for her school, and 1 am sure Constance will not have her 
quaint German-English so patiently dealt with from a stranger.” 

‘‘ 1 am sorry too,"” answered Miss Macartney, lowering her eyes. 

” Fraulein Fink lias begged of me to try and* effect an alteration in 
your plans,” contmued the doctor, watching her face attentively. 
‘‘ Of course, by so doing, 1 place myself in an awkward position. 1 
have no possible right to advise, to persuade, least of all, to question 
yon — yet can I effect my purpose without doing all these?” 

jVliss Macartney did not look up; she knew that Dr. Paulus was 
of different stuff to Fraulein Fink, and she feared botli his scorn and 
his scrutiny. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


24 

“ 1 would rather speak to you as a friend,” added he, in a kind 
voice; “perhaps under no circumstances you would expect inju- 
dicious or careless advice from me—” 

“ Oh, no!” exclaimed the governess, eagerly; “ 1 know that you 
have before helped hundreds of friendless governesses by youi coun- 
sel and interest. I would have come to you, had 1 dared,” 

“ Granted, then, that you believe me incapable of ill-advising you 
under any circumstances; now that 1 come to you as a friend, 
you will surely look for prudence and expediency from me? 1 know 
the world better than you do— especially the mixed half-English, 
half German society of a town like this; and if you give me your 
confidence, 1 dare say 1 can help you— without such confidence, 1 
should but make an effort in the dark.” 

Miss Macartney flushed and moved her hands nervously. 

“ Uo you intend to give it me?” said tiie doctor, with some stern- 
ness. 

Plad Dr. Paulus been of a less decided and less strong-minded 
type, she would have flung an angry “ No ” at him, and so ended 
liie matter. As it was, she sat powerless to speak either in gentle- 
ness or in anger. 

“ Self-interest is generally supposed to be the ruling power of the 
world,” the doctor went on, coldly; “ but 1 presume. Miss Macart- 
ney, from the step you contemplate, that you are utterly indifferent 
to it — in fact, that, unlike most ladies, you are regardless of your 
reputation.” 

That stung her. 

“Who dares to accuse me of having forfeited it?” she asked, 
with wild eyes. 

Dr. Paulus’s lip curled with scornful pity; he had a way of de- 
spising whom he compassionated, especially women, and the curling 
lip betokened both feelings always. 

“ What and who will defend you? Your sudden leaving will not 
— those who are cognizant of it cannot.” 

“ 1 do not ask for defense. Let people say what they please of 
me— 1 care little for the opinion of the world. ” 

“It would be easier for me to say so,” answered Dr. Paulus, 
wdlh quiet emphasis; “ a woman omint care foi it.” 

“ A happy woman, perhaps— an unhappy one can be even in- 
different to that. Oh! Dr. Paulus, you cannot help me— would to 
God that it were otherwise!” 

“ And what future do you plan out for yourself? Have you 
friends?” 

“ None.” 

“ W'hitlier do you go?” 

“ 1 do not know.” 

“ This is utterly irrational, and unworthy of an Englishwoman ” 
cried the doctor, impatiently. “ Whatever yoii may say to the con- 
trary, no one can help putting a bad construction on such a step 1 
do myself.” 

The an’ow hit. With gleaming eyes she said — 

“ What kind of construction. Doctor Paulus?” 

“ Tou fear some disclosure that may injure your character.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 25 

There was no answer, but her head drooped, her whole attitude 
expressed aespondent humility. 

Though Dr. Paulus had a good heart, he was merciless when too 
much tried, and his patience had been sorely tried during this inter- 
view. A. pitying look, a kind word, might have brought the 
woman’s bilter haughty spirit contritely to his teet; he knew it, but 
wounded deeper than ever. 

“ 1 may seem hard to you. Miss Macartney; my hardest word is 
sott compared to the words and the looks you will encounter from 
others— depend upon that.” 

” 1 will hide myselt beyond the reach of malice — 1 will defy it!” 
she said, with a taint attempt at defiance. 

^ Dr. Paulus laughed bitterly. 

' “ Defy truth V 

And be repeated the words with a meaning that she could not 
misunderstand. After a pause he added, 

” 1 confess that you are to be pitied. When a woman loses caste, 
she loses what no other advantages in life can make up to her — but 
in your position, with the false step goes every other advantage. 
You must see this — jmu must know that even the homely hard- 
working life at the Fraulein Fink’s is a phase of respectability to 
which you can never again attain — unless by great good-fortune. 
You would hardly care to enter an establishment where the princi- 
pal was indifterent to her governess’s antecedents; you would surely 
expect to be received in no other.” 

His candor and severity had brought her to the ground at last; 
crushed, wounded, and abased, she covered her face with her hands 
and moaned in her great wretchedness. When her passion was 
spent, she said in a voice that was dignified in its intense resigna- 
tion — 

“ Perhaps 1 had better stay; anyhow 1 must suffer, and it matters 
little where. By going, 1 only put off a day of meeting that must 
come sooner or later; and by staying, I avert a calumny which could 
hardly cause me unhappiness, but might bring me to the need of 
bread.” 

You speak of a day of meeting?” asked Dr. Paulus, fixing his 
piercing eyes upon her. 

” 1 did, but 1 cannot explain the words to you— they escaped me 
inadvertentl)^ ” 

” If I appear obtrusive and harsh,” Dr. Paulus added, ” remem- 
ber that it is not the first or the second or the third time such a mat- 
ter has been forced disagreeably to my noliccj. Holding the position 
that I do, it is incumbent upon me to raise a strong protest against 
all domestic offenses whicli deteriorate from the character aud com- 
lort of the resident English heie; every new scandal, every new 
breach of manners and morality, takes away from both in no ordi- 
nary degree. ’ ’ 

Quietly, and as if with an effort to subdue some great dread, she 
answered — 

” Never fear that I will make an Englishman blush for me 1 am 
not the guilty being you imagine: perhaps at sonie future time even 
you will judge me less hardly; anyhow, you will surely defer your 
condemnation till my crime is proved.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


j 


26 


“ I have judged you according to circumstances,” said Dr. Paulus, 
“ and you cannot deny that they blacken you; it, following thdclue 
afforded by them, I have been unjust, 1 ask your pardon.” 

Just then the lair head ot Constance Paulus passed under the 
window. A softer look came to Miss Macartney’s eyes; her lips 
quivered, and she said in a trembling voice — 

“ Whethei I go or stay, never let Constance hear any ill ot me — 1 
love her best of all my pupils. You will not foibid her from con- 
tinuing my lessons?” 

” Certainly not,” answered the doctor, a little touched. 

He then rose to go. 

“You will think this matter over,” he said, kindly, “ Of course, 
as the friend of Fraulein Fink, 1 have been reasoning on the side of 
her advantage, no less than of your own; but the two are one and 
the same thing. As far as 1 can see, and guided by your words, 
you could not but be your own enemy by a precipitate departure; 
by staying, you have nothing to fear — ” 

“ You do not know all,” she broke in, agitatedly. 

“ At least, nothing to fear from your own conduct, may I say?” 

“Thank God, yes,” she answered fervently, and held out her 
hand to him as if to show that it was clean. 

“ 1 believe, then, that 1 have fulfilled the instructions and wishes 
of the Fraulein Fink. Adieu, Miss Macartney; take counsel with 
the good lady herself — and, above all things, form no hasty resolu- 
tion.” 

Long after the doctor’s active figure had disappeared. Miss 
Macartney remained standing where he had left her. A great con- 
flict was going on in her mind— should she go or stay? To these two 
points ever tended her thoughts, and hopes, and fears. To go, as 
she well knew, was to begin again the upliiil battle she had begun 
long ago — to fight against privation and indignities and neglect, for 
the pitiful place of a governess — to pitch her tent in a strange place, 
with no welcoming faces and no friendly voices — to witness, daily 
and hourly, the meanest passions of human nature cropping up like 
weeds in spring, to despise and be despised anew ! 

It she stayed, she would have but one great suspense and dread, 
no fresh difficulties to contend with, no heavier trials than the daily 
labor of teaching — no angry and opposing influences, except Hann- 
chen’s petty meannesses, and her aunt’s harmless fits of ill-temper. 
In a measure she was independent — that is to say, when her lessons 
were given, she was free to go where she pleased, and she had ex- 
perienced enough of school life to value this privilege. Moreover, 
she was beyond the reach of scornful looks and contemptuous 
words, both of which she had received plentifully in a private 
family. 

Should she meet him?~ 

She put her hand to her heart as she took in the full meaning of 
the words. Did she fear that it would break with the terror or the 
joy of such a meeting? Or did she believe, like the weary followers 
of pious iEneas, that ''per mrios casus, per tot discrimina rerum,' ^ 
the gods had some quiet haveft-uf security in reserve for her? It 
would have been impossible to read anything from that pale, intent 
face. 


1 


DOCTOR JACOBo 


37 


CHAPTER Vll. 

In spite of Louisa’s weak health and general incapacity, the house- 
hold ot Dr. Paulus was as well regulated and comfortable as liberal 
means and good method could make it. 

The children were never allowed to be naughty— the servants 
were never allowed to be slothful— and, though the attainment of 
such ends as quiet and order involved continual anxiety, he found 
time for it. 

At seven o’clock his coffee machine was brought in and set to work 
— and woe be to Master Louis, or his brother Bob, if they failed to 
appear before the coffee had run out. When the three elder chil- 
dren were punctual — when Constance had tidied mamma’s bed- 
room, and prepared the invalid tor breakfast — when Louis had given 
out the servants’ daily stores— when Bob had heard the little ones 
say their prayers in the nursery— no family breakfast could be 
pleasanter than that of Dr. Paulus. But if one of these small duties 
should be omitted, the offender had no voice in the conversation — 
perhaps even no conversation took place; and if mamma were, in 
the smallest degree, neglected, the neglector’s place would be vacant. 

Severe as he was, merciless as he could be in the case of unfulfilled 
duty, Dr. Paulus was adored by his children, and an encouraging 
word from his lips was treasured as a gold coin, never to be made 
too much of. When they were good, he delighted to amuse himself 
with them, having a view to their mental development — led them 
on to argument and discussion— induced them to define and to dis- 
criminate — promoted their curiosity concerning such questions of 
daily life as were within their reach — in short, tried to form their 
cJiaracters for the world as it is, and not, as many parents expect it, 
or hope it, may prove to their children. A foolish or inconsistent 
speech met such a rebuke from him as generally silenced the speaker 
tor the next ten minutes; a really clever one elicited a hearty laugh. 

“ Papa,” said bright -eyed, ready-witted Bob, ” Harry Brill said 
yesterday he wouldn’t like to be like us, because we never go to 
ilomburg, and the Bergstrasse, and those sort of pleasure-places. 
Wasn’t that very rude of him?” 

“And, papa,” added Louis, a timid, sensitive boy of fourteen, 

• with a face like a girl’s, and a habit of coloring at the slightest re- 
l)roof, “ 1 told him that we should have plenty of pleasure and 
traveling when we were grown up.” 

“ Hem! So you think, my clever Louis, my man of the world, 
that you are receiving your education at the Gymnasium in order to 
enjoy yourself in holiday-making ever after? A clever idea that!” 

Poor Louis blushed painfully under his father’s sarcasm, and le- 
tiirned to his bread and coffee with little relish. 

Just then the letters came in, which were alwa 5 '-s a signal for si- 
lence, whether his wife was present or not. Dr. Paulus read his let- 
ters without a remark as to tlieir contents, and without expecting a 
remark on the same subject from anyone. 

Soon after, the boys, as was their wont, touched his check with 


28 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


their lips, and hurried off to school. Constance, however, being the 
only daughter and eldest child, enjoyed the privilege of unloclung 
papa’s study for liirn before she left the house, and, what she valued 
beyond all her simple pleasures, a kiss and playful word or two be- 

siclcs • 

When the doctor rose, she entwined her arms round his, and laid 

her delicate pink cheek on his shoulder. 

“ Come, papa,” she said, ” 1 must open the door of your prison, 
and see you shut in before I go. Is it not a funny idea that 1 should 

be your jailer, papa?” „ . , , 

‘‘ A very funny idea, Connie, but not the funniest that has ema- 
nated from your little head.” - 

” Agatha Brill says I am such a baby for my age— ought girls of 
fifteen to be so very womanly, papa?” 

“ God forbid that you should be like Agatha—” 

Dr. Paulus stopped short, and then added— 

“ If 1 find no fault with your babyishness, Connie, never mind a 
hundred Agatha Brills and their opinions.” 

” Miss Macartney does not find fault with me either, papa. She 
said, yesterday, ‘ Thank God every day of your life, Constance, that 
you have such a father, and suffer your heart to break rather than 
disobey him.’ 1 do not quite understand why she should have said 
this — do you, papa?” 

” It is time for you to go, Connie — run away.” 

She kissed him without a word, and tripped off. Dr. Paulus 
then seated himself at his high desk, sipped a glass of cold water, 
folded his letters, aud placed them in one of the numerous lit- 
tle drawers of his desk. It was a peculiarity of his to burn 
no correspondence, excepting the most trivial; and for every class 
aud genus of letter he had a separate place. He, never mislaid a 
paper, or forgot its exact situation; and if any one had waked him 
up in darkest night ior any specified communication, he would have 
been able to lay liis hand on it within three minutes. 

Hardly had he seated himself to work when a light tap and care- 
less ‘ Good-morning, Dr. Paulus,” caused him to break off. 

It was Mrs. Brill, who, in spite of her somewhat imperfect toilet 
and unkempt tresses, looked the very picture of handsome matronly 
importance. 

“Ah! excuse my interruption— it shall not last more than five 
minutes,” she said, sinking into the nearest chair. “ 1 called about 
Dr. Jacob.” 

A smile passed over the doctor’s face, as he pushed away his pa- 
pers. He thought his friend Brill a tool to allow his wife such lib- 
erty of judgment and action, but she amused him excessively. 

” The fact is,” she continued, ” Dr. Jacob must have his wa 3 ^ 1 
have been thinking over the matter seriouslj’^, and have come to that 
conclusion. If we oppose him, we may displease the powers that be; 
- if we make much of him, and pet him, we may do good to our- 
selves. 1 don’t know what you think, Dr. Paulus, but 1 have al- 
ways found enthusiasm for a cause to be another name for private 
advantage.” 

“Only in the minds of the sordid,! should hope,” said Dr. 
Paulus, pointedly. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


29 


“ Yes, in the minds of people no worse than their nei<;hbors — peo- 
ple who live harmlessly, and do what good they can. Look at poor 
Tom and myself— we have a large family, anti an income of three 
hundred and fifty pounds a year; we can hardly, on this, keep the 
wolf from the door; and if we paid our bills as regularly as we 
should wish to do, the wolf would come in. Now, we know that 
the Jews, and the Tasmanians, and the Tatagonians ought to be 
converted; but is it in human nature that we should sacrifice great 
personal advantages to that end? Again and again 1 say. No. It, 
on the contrary, we could add a drop or two to the great ocean of 
Bibles, prayer-books, and tracts, collected for the conversion of the 
heathen, without harming ourselves, whose hands would prove 
readier than ours?” 

Dr. Paulus had insisted to Miss Macartney, the previous evening, 
on the omnipotence of this very principle of self-interest; but when 
an illustrative truth was brought so nakedly and forcibly to him, he 
winced. 

” Then you have discovered a reason in favor of Dr. Jacob’s 
preaching?” he asked, curtly, and with a slight contraction of the 
brows. 

‘‘Yes, Dr. Paulus— a very efficient one, too.” 

” May 1 ask what it is?” 

‘‘ Certainly,” rejoined the lady, with a pleasant laugh. ‘‘ Tom 
and 1 are by no means anxious to appear better or more disinterested 
than we really are. The plain truth, then, is this — Dr. Jacob has 
high connections in England who may be useful to us.” 

‘‘ Of course, the motive little affects the result, Mrs. Brill, though 
1 could have wished that you had found a better one. As far as 1 
can judge. Dr. Jacob is a good man and a zealous missionary, and I 
am ^ad that Brill is inclined to allow him fair play.” 

‘‘Tom had really less to do with the decision than myself,” said 
Mrs, Brill, provokingly; ‘‘he was quite agreeable to either yes or 
no, as he always is.” 

She knew that Dr. Paulus stringently abhorred any reference to her 
supremacy as wife, and took a mischievous delight in pricking him 
with her little pins. Dr. Paulus, however, could prick too. 

” Most ladies delight to rule their husbands, but you are the fii;st 
1 ever met with who was proud of the weakness that allows such 
government,” he said, gravely. ‘‘ 1 hope, Mrs. Brill, that Agatha 
and Flory are not accustomed to hear such sentiments from your 
lips.” 

‘‘Oh! dear no!” she said, trying to hide her pique by a laugh. 
‘‘ Poor children! 1 only hope they may get husbands as kind as my 
poor Tom! By-the bye. Dr. Paulus, will you let Connie and Louis 
join my young people in the Zodlogical Garden to-night? The 
kentz Band is coming, and the weather is so lovely!— do give them 
a treat!” 

‘‘Many thanks; but as 1 am obliged to go out myself, Connie 
must stay with her mamma; as to Louis, by the time he has prepared 
his lessons, the evening is nearly over.” 

‘‘ 1 do think. Dr. Paulus, that you are a little too strict with your 
childreu; they are very good, and Counie and Louis are charmingly 


30 DOCTOE JACOB. 

unsophisticated and well-mannered ; but a little bringing out would 
make them perfect. ” 

Dr. Paulas thought Connie and Louis far from perfect, much less 
Agatha and Flory, but he said nothing. Mrs. Brill then took leave, 
having first expressed many sincere condolences on the continued in- 
disposition of the Frau Doctor, 


CHAPTER Vlll. 

If no Burgerin of the Free City worked harder than Fraulein 
Fink, none in all Prussia could enjoy a holiday so well. Whether 
she entertained a friend or two to tea in her summer-house, or made 
a little party to the Zoological Garden on a concert night, or went to 
the theater or circus, or whether she walked alone to the cemetery 
and mused on the eternal quietude in store for her there, it was all 
the same. Her cup of contentment was ever filled to the brim. This 
last recreation bore the palm from the former more worldly ones. 
Fraulein Fink lived on sentiment, was cheerful on it, grew plump 
on it, made merry on it; but religious sentiment reigned supreme in 
her mind. Though an attentive member of the Lutheran Church, 
she not unfrequently absented herself from the Sunday morning’s 
service, in order to pray by herself and preach to herself in the beauti- 
ful God’s-acre outside the town. She would return from such mus- 
ings in a very lively mood, discourse to Hannchen (who felt secretly 
bored by it) on the fragrance and shadiness of a certain little corner 
which she had selected as her final resting-place; then proceed to re- 
ceive visitors, dine with extraordinary relish, and spend the rest of 
the day in harmless pleasures. 

On the Saturday in question, Hannchen had cajoled her aunt into 
an unusually hilarious mood, the consequence of which was a reso- 
lution to join the Frau Direct orin and Elise in the Zoological Garden. 
The expense certainly had to be considered; one shilling each being 
required as entrance fee, a further outlay of eighteen pence tor beef- 
steak, ale, and potatoes, in case they stayed to supper, and, per- 
haps, another sixpence for ices. But Fraulein Fink was by no 
means parsimonious. If she resolved to spend fifty kreutzers, she 
did not sigh over them, make epitaphs on them, and trv to make 
them do the duty of sixty. If she spent a couple of florins, her 
manner became rather more magnanimous, perhaps, befitting the 
importance of the expenditure; but she never pretended to spend 
more than she really did, or to treat the matter with indifference, as 
if she thought nothing of h. She did not know— as, indeed, fevv of 
her countrymen and countrywomen know— what it is to live for 
appearance. Gentility, more’s the pity, is a home-bred English word. 
In Germany you see poverty in plenty; but genteel poverty rarely' 
The proverb, “Set the best foot foremost,” is almost unknown to 
our cousins. Those who are rich, are rich; those who are poor by 
not being asliamed of poverty, are really less so. ' 

Fraulein Fink having given out eggs, flour, and sugar, for the 
school-room supper of pancakes and preserve, and having seen that 
Lischen was busily scrubbing the first of her four class-rooms then 
proceeded to make her toilet. Soon she was joined by Hannchen all 


'DOCTOR JACOB. 


B1 

a-bloom with feathers, flowers, and furbelows, and the two set off. 
You could not easily find a livelier or pleasanter sight than the 
Frankfort Zoological Garden on a concert day. Passing through an 
avenue where cockatoos and parrots swing on their stands, looking 
like splinters of some gorgeous rainbow caught on the trees, you 
come upon a larire open space covered by tables, at which sit the 
youth and beauty and fashion of the Free City. A prettily-built 
restaurant is seen behind, and all around are shady walks, inter- 
spersed with the most fanciful homes ever conceived for bird, beast, 
or fish. At a little distance from the restaurant stands a raised sum- 
mer-house, in the shape of a pagoda, and here gleam the white coats 
of the Austrian band; whilst they play, as only Austrians can play, 
some delicious waltz of the never-to-be-forgotten Strauss, or some 
stirring march of Jeschko, the petted Austrian band-master of Ma}’^- 
ence. Gayly dressed visitors stroll hither and thither; Frenchified- 
looking children, with their richly-habited Jewish mammas, feed tbe 
grave young bears; sober professors go into ecstasies of laughter as 
they watch the gambols of the monkeys in their superb cage, or pre- 
vail upon the kangaroos to leap across their little territory; Russian 
nursemaids, wearing pretty white caps, hold some baby heir to a 
thousand serfs close to the guinea-pigs, or throw bread, for their 
amusement, to the swans and ducks swimming in the lovely willow- 
hung lakelet. You see the wealthy merchants’ wives, followed by 
their children, under charge of a governess and maid from Fulda, 
the latter being something distinguished in that way, like an Ayah. 
Her costume is certainly marked, and chaimingly picturesque.* A 
high coronet, tight bodice, with colored braces, blue skirt bordered 
with red, just reaching below the knees, white stockings, and 
buckled shoes— what could be a more becoming toilet for the 
bearer of a baby? Of English tourists there are plenty, and here, 
for, perhaps, the only occasion during their Rhine trip, they leave 
Mr. Murray’s book behind them. 

After strolling a little, the four ladies chose a table having a good 
view of the gayest part of the scene, and sat down. By-and-by, 
Elise’s brother joined them, and taking the seat next to Hannchen, 
began to amuse her, as even a whiskerless youth of eighteen could 
easily do, when no better beau was in sight. 

A waiter soon came up for orders, and the two chaperons took 
into consideration the subject of "’upper. 

If there is anything that keenly annoys a genteel waiter next to 
receiving no Trinkgeld, or vails, it is to see people indifferent on the 
subject of eating and drinking. This restaurant Kellner utterly de- 
spised those respectable quiet families who subscribe to the gardens 
merely for the music and monkeys; he looked with lofty pity on the 
ice- and-confectlonery -eating young people, and by no means gave 
his best bow to the moderate old ladies and married couples who re- 
freshed themselves with coffee. Those who called for a bill of fare, 
ordered a cloth to be laid, cutlets, salad, cheese, etc., he would re- 
spect from the bottom of his heart ever after. Now, Fraulein Fink 
knew of this waiter’s idiosyncrasy as well as we do; she quite in- 
tended, moreover, to earn his esteem and enjoy a hot supper, but the 
latter fact was to her as a plump mouse to a triumphant cat. It 
was too much of a treat to be quickly enjoyed, and lost forever; it 


32 DOCTOR JACOB. 

must be played with, dallied in the fingers, smelt near and beheld at 
a distance. Moreover, she did not wish to bring the waiter in ques- 
tion at once to that pitch of tender obsequiousness of which only a 
Kellner who hears the order, “ Steaks, potatoes, salad, Crruyere 
cheese, ale,” is capable. No, she liked to wait, to toy with his pa- 
tience, to bring him to marble-llke indifEereuce to her existence- 
then to cause his back to recover its elasticity, and his legs their 
nimbleness, at one magical touch. .... 

Antaeus, they say, was the most agile giant living, so long as he 
touched the earth— but Plutus is stronger, tor the faintest chink ot 
an unseen coin works quite as much effect on the supinest waiter 
living. 

Having ordered the savory dishes to appear in an hour’s time, our 
little party found amusement in looking around them, and in listen- 
ing with unaffected enjoyment to the music. After a while, the ad- 
joining table was taken by a party whom we are bound to notice. 

First came Mrs. Brill. She vvore a sky-blue .feather, and a pea- 
green dress, but looked wonderfully little the worse for such a con- 
trast. Her younger children followed, all more or less over-dressed 
and handsome, and perfectly self-possessed in their behavior. 
Agatha, the elder daughter, came last, with a pretty modest-looking 
girl at her side; this was Katchen Eggers, an orphan, placed under 
]Mrs. Brill’s care for education. After a great fleal of loud talking, 
in which even the younger children joined, they seated themselves 
and ordered ices. Mrs. Brill’s sharp eyes were busy enough, mean- 
time, and before the ices came, she knew who were at the tables 
within her point of sight, how they were dressed, and what they 
were eating. 

She proceeded to make a great many remarks, which would look 
ill-natured on paper, but sounded unimportant enough as she threw 
them off, one by one, with the same good-tempered voice and easy 
laugh. 

The Garden had now become full. It was a matter ot difficulty 
to obtain either the possession of a table, or ihe attention of a waiter, 
and the alleys and walks glowed like tulip beds with the gay silks 
ot the ladies. 

By-and-by, a distinguished-looking Englishman approached from 
the entrance. There was something about his face and carriage 
that caused people to look at him inquisitively, especially the resi- 
dent English, who alw'ays felt curious regarding strangers. With- 
out having an air of wealth, he carried that tone of good-breeding 
and aristocratic habits which imply it; and without being conse- 
quential, he made his way through the crowd wdtii a calm superior- 
ity of manner that is neither condescension nor haughtiness, but 
outweighs both. Channing said that his road to power was charac- 
ter, and Dr. Jacob entertained much the same conviction. 

As he looked on so many representatives of rich families wdio were 
unknown to him— whose purses and houses were, as yet, closed to 
him— whose bows and smiles were as yet denied him— this thought 
was in his mind — 

“ I have come a stranger, but before many days I shall have found 
the way to many a heart, and an entrance into many a circle. Per- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 33 

haps next week, I may have some of the most influential residents 
pressing round me, and honoring me here. We shall see.” 

His eyes soon fell on the Brill party, and, after a polite word or 
two of greeting, he seated himselt beside the elder lady. 

Dr. Jacob talked little, but talked well. He had a habit of 
throwing back his head and folding his arms, as if perfect ease were 
necessary to the exertion. And, without wanning with any sub- 
ject, he grew calmly eloquent over it, and lighted it up, so to say, 
by his wonderful knowledge of human nature and readiness at 
analogy. 

With Mrs. Brill, however, he merely suggested, and listened — 
perhaps in this latter capacity lay the secret of so much experience 
of character, and power to read it. A mind of so common a caliber 
as ]Mrs. Brill’s interested him no less than the vigorous and well- 
trained intellect of Dr. Paulus; no amount of meanness or insignifi- 
cance seemed to pain him — perhaps, because he stood so far off from 
both. Therefore Mrs. Brill’s tongue went at its fastest rate, and Dr. 
Jacob listened with a smile. 

Mr. Brill now came up, and proposed a stroll round the Garden. 
Dr. Jacob gave Mrs. Brill his arm; her husband followed with 
Aggie; Katchen and the children brought up the rear. 

As they made their way among the crowded tables, Mrs. Brill 
occasionally stopped to greet acquain lances, to whom she introduced 
her companion. She was in high spirits, feeling proud to hang on 
the arm of such a man, and delighted at the idea of creating a little 
envious inquisitiveness among her friends, as to whom the stranger 
might be. 

The Brills had a large visiting circle — a chaplain must necessarily 
have such, in order to maintain his popularity and position — and Mr. 
Brill’s stood on rather shaky foundations just now. It took thenv 
therefore some time to get clear of the crowd; which feat accom- 
plished, Mrs. Brill gave a synopsis of her friends after the following 
manner : 

“ The Herveys are good people enough, but poor and pinched, and 
never give anything beyond a tea and turn-out; the Norris lamily' 
are rich, but half American, and vulgar in the extreme; the Woods 
are parvenus, and only pass off as real coin among the homelier Ger- 
mans; they drop their h’s, make absurd mistakes in endeavoring to 
observe etiquette— but are kind-hearted and inoffensive; the family 
of exceedingly tall daughters are well-bred, unexceptioiiably re- 
spectable, and a little averse to pleasure, except of the most decorous 
kind. Tlie Germans, you won’t care to hear of?” 

” Certainly,” said Dr. Jacob. 

” Fraulein Fink keeps a school, to which Aggie and Katchen go. 
The old gentleman, with his two daughters, is a Lutheran pastor, 
and a dear old soul, though exceedingly comic; that young officer, 
who bowed so grandly, is a captain in the Frankfort Cavalry and, 
entre nous, an admirer of our Aggie’s. Ah! here comes our clever 
Jewish physician— isn’t it very extraordinary, Dr. Ja<5ol^, that all 
our best phy.sicians and lawyers are Jews?” 

Meantime, let us see how Fraulein Fink is enjoying herself. The 
sun has sunk behind the blue Taunus range, the dews have fallen, 
the fanciful gas-lights twinkle in the avenues, the rainbow-colored 


34 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


silks are no longer to be distingnished from the foliage of acacia and 
lauiel; the paroquets are housed for the night, and a few ot the 

tables are cleared. , i 

Fraulein Fink has had no disappointment regarding her hot sup- 
per. The cutlets were superb; the beer was undoubtedly Bavarian; 
the salad had its due proportion of beetroot and potato; and after a 
proper appreciation of all these, her heart expanded with content 

and benevolence. . , , . i j 

“ Ah!” my dear Frau Directoiin,” she said, clasping her hands 
enthusiastically, “ we may, in our most exalted moments of intel- 
lectuality, imagine ourselves to be bejmnd the commoner pleasures 
of t lie palate. It is not so. This superb music, these lovely gar- 
dens, the tranquillity of the twilight sky, the mingled voices of 
happy fellow- beings— in fine, all the manifestations of beauty and 
goodness that bring us nearer to God and to man, are intensified, 
dear Frau l^irectorin, and strengthened, by a savory cutlet and a 
glass of good beer thereto. ” 

“No doubt!” answered the Frau Directorin; ‘‘for my part I 
never think music sounds so well as when 1 am knitting stockings; 
and if 1 have just supped off baked potatoes and buttered rolls— so 
much the better.” 

Fraulein Fink, you will perceive, was b}'^ no means a hypocrite. 
Where she was weak, she owmed 1o her w^eakness; where she w'^as 
strong, she did not deny a pride in her strength. Her strength of 
intellect resembled a fortress— it looked all the more invincible for 
one or twm rents in it. 

At least so thought the Fraulein Fink. 


CHAPTER IX. 

At last came the Sunday appointed tor Dr. Jacob’s benefit ser- 
mon. It was evident that some unusual attraction existed, by the 
.^tream of people pouring into the small church facing Uie beautiful 
Goethe statue. Ordinarily, Mr. Brill’s congregation was insignifi- 
cant, owing, in the first instance, to the very irregular attendance of 
such English residents as were kindly disposed toward him; and 
secondly, to that complete non-attendance of the hostile party. 

You may obtain a good insight into the habits and general tone of 
a household by the manner in which its members "go to church. 
The austerely punctual in all weathers, who look out the lessons and 
texts, and fix their eyes devouringly on the preacher, may be set 
down as formal, uninteresting people. Some enter but just in time, 
blunder into the wu’ong pew, smile at their error, open the prayer- 
book at any place but the right, finally, on the clergyman’s appear- 
ance, give their whole attention to the service — onW fidgeting, per- 
haps, if the sermon prove too long. Tuese are sure to be of the 
pleasant, op.en-hearted, free -spoken class, whom nobody dislikes, 
and who dislike nobody. 

Then there are the unmistakably careless families — families w^ho 
come in one by one, sometimes a quarter of an hour too early, some- 
times a quarter of an hour too late, but equally unconcerned on 
either occasion. The mammas and papas ot such families have gen- 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


35 

erally left a glove or a pocket-liandkerchief at home; have whispered 
discussions with the children, nudge, frown, and make signs to 
them, Imt are utteily unable to maintain a decorous behavior with 
all their eftorts. Ton maybe sure there are ugly discomfoits in 
their house, as well as injudicious enjoyments — perhaps a debt or 
two, cerlamly waste and want. 

Among the earl y comers were the Paulus farnily. Louisa, per- 
haps, w^as hardly strong enough to be out at aJl, but had expressed 
so earnest a wLh to hear Dr. Jacob’s sermon, that her husband could 
not find it in his heart to refuse her. Connie looked very delicate 
and pretty, in her simple straw hat and childish cotton dress, and 
the boys followed in the most exact order possible, looking none the 
less gentlemanly for their inexpensive paletots. Mamma alone wore 
an3dliing costly. I-ler chip bonnet, hei moire dress, her velvet scarf, 
weie tlie admiration of the children, and poor Connie wondered if, 
when she was grown up, she should ever have a silk frock or pale 
kid gloves. 

The next comers were the Brills who entered with a bang and 
creaking of doors, a rustling of skirts, and a whispering of voices. 
One bench did not suffice for so large a party, and some discussion 
took place before a judicious division could be effected. Flory 
nudged Tommy, Tommy kicked Harry, Harry pinched little Jean- 
nie, all to no purpose; at last Mrs. Brill pushed the two youngest 
children into a seal, and llounced down beside them; a struggle fol- 
lowed between Tommy and Flory for the vacant place beside her, 
in which Flory ’s crinoline got the day, and Master Tommy was 
obliged to follow gentle Katchen Eggers into the next pew 

Then came Miss JNIacartney. She wore a thick veil, and crept 
quietly to her seat, without looking round. Her pupils, Katchen 
and Aggie, noticed that she did not, as usual, raise her veil when 
she rose from her knees; her hands, too, supported her low bent 
head. Was she ill? — or had she really done something wrong, of 
which she feared the consequences, as some of the drls whispered 
in the first class? Both Katchen and Aggie pondered over the mat- 
ter till prayers commenced. 

A few minutes after eleven o’clock, Mr. Brill rushed into the 
reading desk, his hair unbrushed, his cassock awry, his surplice 
tucked in at the neck. After kneeling down with the intention of 
praying — but, in fact, the poor man was too concerned about his 
lateness to do more than say the first text that came to mind — he 
rose,^ hitched the surifiice to the left, pushed his hair to the right, 
made a sign to his wife involving some dom^tic secret, and began: 

“ Dear'^y beloved brethren,” etc. 

Meantime Dr. Jacob had, with much dignity and unobtrusiveness, 
seated himself behind the communion rails. He knew that every 
eye was upon him, that every look and movement might be con- 
strued to his favor or disadvantage; and, without wishing or intend- . 
iug to act a part, he wished to create an impression. He did not put 
on a mask, and seem entirely lost in devotion. During the prayers 
and the Litany no one in the church prayed more fervently than he; 
but whilst the Psalms and Lessons were being read, he suffered his 
eyes to wander around the congregation, 
it was but reasonable that he should feel interested in those who 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


36 

hud welcomed him with open arms; it was only human that he 
should attend less to the portions of Sciipture being read by Mr. 
Brill, and which he knew by heart, than to faces which were en- 
tirely new to him, and which it essentially concerned his mifsion 
that he should learn to read well. With a grave earnestness, there- 
fore, he passed search! ngly from one family group to the otlirr, nor 
ended the scrutiny, till his\gaze rested on the occupant of the remot- 
est bench — namely. Miss Macartney. 

She was a governess and an Englishwoman — thus much he saw at 
a glance; the thick veil prevented a glimpse of her features, and he 
looked no more. 

This short suivey convinced him that he was among no ordinary, 
sober minded English. Among the whole congregation, hardly one 
family could be said to typify'our national character; that of Dr. 
Paul us approached nearest to it, but with wide differences. The 
doctor was German, and held German notions regarding a man’s 
position in his house. His wife and children were not allowed to 
have impulse-^, much less opinions; they gave where he gave; they 
liked where he liked, and mce versa. The other large families were 
of that gay, uncertain kind one is sure to find in a fashionable 
foreign town. Some were luxurious and generous; some came to 
chinch merely because they regarded it as a nationality that made 
them respected, and were, on priuciple, liberal through anj^ other 
channel but that of the pulpit; some, though of high rank, had lit- 
tle to give, and gave either spontaneously or when driven to it. 
Tourists, as a rule, are not partial to extra" outlay, and of tourists, 
there were man}". 

Dr. Jacob clearly saw that his only road to success lay through 
sudden, startling eloquence. Such a mixed assembly could not be 
expected to give readily to a remote charity; they must be drawn to 
if, fascinated by it, excited by it, awed by it. Statistical reports, he 
felt sure, w'ould fall on the hearts of his hearers as hailstones on a 
snowed surface — he must have hot tears of pity, spasmodic ra3"s of 
humanity, warm gushes of enthusiasm from them. Then all would 
go well. 

Mr. Brill, though an orthodox clergyman in most things, could 
r.ot help feeling that the morning service was a little too long, cou- 
sefpiently he made quick work of it. lie made quick work of his 
sermons, too, ordinarily, being signaled by Mrs. Brill w"hen the 
term of twenty minutes had expired. 

And now Dr. Jacob^ nounted the pulpit. Certainly the pla<je be- 
came him. With his majestic silvered head thrown back, his pow- 
erful, full-chested form drawn to its complete height, his eyes brim- 
ming over with the largeness of his subject, he might well recall that 
jirophet who stood up and called out to the people, “ Pray for the 
peace of Jerusalem.” 

At first the calm grandmir of his manner and the deep ringing ' 
tones of his voice alone sufficed to attract all eyes and ears; but soon 
a new and indescribable emotion stirrea every heart. You might 
have heard the fluttering of a butterfly against the windows. ]\irs. 
Brill looked awed and decorous. Dr. Paulus brightened and smiled 
from very admiral ion and wonder. The rich, worldly English ex- 
pressed unusual disturbance of feeling. Miss Macartney sat with 


DOCTOR JACOB. 37 

clasped hands and marble features, as if every word were striking 
some terrible conviction to her mind. 

Dr. Jacob kn^^v human nature well. He had been taught to know 
it in rather a skeptical school; and however high his ends might be, 
he generally made use of the lower rather than the higher qualities 
of his fellow -beings to assist him. To day he wanted money from 
his hearers. They were far from intellectual— far from devout; 
consequently, instead of trying to elevate them to a high standard of 
religious enthusiasm, he brought himself down to tlie level of that 
entliusiasm they could easiest feel, and, instead of teaching, moved 
them only. 

He bciran his sermon by a gorgeous picture of the Jewish life in 
the Free City. He drew vividly the gleaming while villas, the 
smooth velvety pi easaunces, the marble statuary, the flowery carpets, 
the mimic lakes, the gilded furniture, the shining carriages, the fiery 
steeds, the obsequious lackeys, the kingly banquets, in fine, all the 
magnificence which makes up a modern Jewish menage. 

Then he dwelt on the charitableness, and honor, and talent of the 
men; the beauty and accomplishments of the women; the promis- 
ing abilities of the child; and asked if the whole world could show 
a phase of society more brilliant, or more prophetic of power and 
success. 

No; this race of merchant princes of Frankfort had no rivals in 
Europe, and could never have rivals. Generations might pass away, 
and still their names would fill the mouths of men, signifying 
wealth, and understanding, and influence — still their houses would 
be palaces, and their equipages equal to those of royalty. But this 
regality and this power were tor earth only. 

In the old Norse religion the power of Evil was represented by a 
giant who was mighty for life and death so long as his back was 
turned to the sun, "but to face it was to die. So w^as it with this 
gigantic Jewish power. Whilst Death kept in the background, all 
went well. Sj^read the feast, bring in the wine, fill high the silver 
cups, let the sounds of sweet music and the sight of fair faces adorn 
the banquet, sprinkle perishable flowers around the costly meats, ere 
\et the sun touches the hills with its light. But slowly, surely, as 
iiie dawn of spring, comes that Sun of Righteousness, in the face of 
which the Giant must die! 

In words, every one of wdiich went straight and swift, as an In- 
dian’s arrow, to ihe mark, he proceeded to dilate upon that doon. of 
death. lie drew, in vivid colors, the voluptuous Time, and the 
dread Eternity; he enlarged upon (he love of life common to all, 
and tlie dread of death, even as it is softened and made holy by 
Chiistian belief; he recalled many a solemn and peaceful death-bed 
wdiich this h lief had hallowed; he described many a terrible struggle 
that had taken place w here such belief was wanting. Then, in short 
ami gorgeous sketches, he recalled to his hearers some experiences 
of his paet ministry m the East. 

“ It was sunset,'” he said, ” and 1 lay under an olive-tree of my 
garden, thinking of many things that 'had happened to encourage 
me in inv mission. Before me lay the Holy City hathed in burning 
light— I couid see the Mount of Olives, and the road that led to 
Bethany. 1 could trace the foundations of that temple whicli $olo- 


38 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


mon buill, of fir, and cedar, and algam wood, and decorated with 
gold ot Parvaiiii and cherubim, anrt rails ot blue, purple, and crim- 
son. The garden celebrated for that Great Agony, and the bitter 
Hill of Calvary, were in sight. 1 was thinking solemnly ot the des- 
olation which had come to the Jerusalem of old, and wondering 
how the Jews could still hope, in spite of so much tul tilled prophecy, 
when the sound of a halting step caused me to break my reverie. Be- 
fore me stood an aged man, weary and fuotsore from many days’ 
travel. Indeed, so altered was he from over-fatigue, that 1 did not 
recognize him as a proud rabbi with whom 1 had argued in vain 
some months since, 

“ ‘ Brother,’ he said, in a feeble voice, ‘ 1 come from the city of 

to tell you that your prayers have not been in vain. 1 believe 

in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Weak, stricken down to death, 
despisi d ot my people, bereft of my child, the Joy and Gloiy of that 
new life have strengthenea me, and brought me here. The voice of 
my home called me back, the face of my child called me many 
times — 1 know that, in gaining Christ, 1 lose her — and 3 ’^et 1 come. 
Receive me into your Church, and let me lay my bones among the 
scenes of your blessed apostleship.’ 

“ With a calm smile he prepared himself to receive the first sacra- 
ment of our Church. 1 had haialy pronounced a blessing when, 
with that smile still on his lips, he fell back dead!” 

The preacher continued in this strain till, overcome by the force 
of his glowing words and the pathos of his passionate voice, every 
heart lay at his feet. The women trembled, and wept, and hid their 
faces. The men looked up rapt and wonder-struck. When he 
ceased speaking, every one drew a deep breath, as if relieved from 
some powerful spell. 


CHAPTER X. 

Dr. Jacob’s benefit-sermon created a furore among the English. 
Money poured in on an unexpected scale of liberality, and man}’- 
proofs were given, beyond money’s w^orth, of the enthusiasm created 
for his cause. The poorer of his countrywomen organized little 
bodies for woekly subscriptions, sewing clubs, Bible donations, etc. ; 
little girls at school laid by a penny from the woekly twopence, and 
gave it to him without a tear of regret; anonymous tourists sent in 
bank-notes to the value of a dozen thalers; even among the German- 
English set, no slight exertions were made. One or two school 
mistresses, having English pupils, asked the favor of an evening 
lecture from Dr. Jacob, and their pupils gave quite as readily to the 
Jewish Mission as to a silver w^edding;giR for the master of draw- 
ing or literature. 

Then another kind of enthusiasm spread widely. Not a day 
passed but little pink notes ot invitation were laid on the doctor’s 
table; from the rich English and American families came cards for 
dinners or suppers; fiom those of moderate means came meekly- 
worded supplication for his company to tea on such and such a day. 
Before a week passed two thirds of the best English houses were 
open to him, and without appearing exultant at his success, he 


DOCTOR JACOB. 39 

availed himself of the proffered hospitality just enough to gratify 
all and offend none. 

“ I confess, dear brother,’' he said to Dr. Paulus, “ that this warm 
reception touches me— humbles me. 1 am, God knows, too un- 
worthy of such kindness. Yet to draw back from it would appear 
thankless. Often shoula 1 prefer a quiet cigar with you, or a game 
of play with your children, to the luxurious entertainments made 
for me.” 

“ On no account refuse them to come here,” answered the other, 
apologetically; ” I am not a man to vex myself without cause at 
what might appear neglect. If you come seldom you are none the 
less welcome, and 1 should be sorry for you to come at all when jmu 
would be doing yourself greater advantage elsewhere. It is a real 
pleasure for me to see you. 1 can answer for it that it is no Jess of a 
pleasure to my wife and the children, but we do not wish to make 
your visits wearisome through a sense of duty to us. Remember 
that.” 

So Dr. Jacob, because he felt that the Paulus family gave him 
just their heart’s welcome, and no more— that however much he 
might go, he would be received with the same sincere, quiet cor- 
diality — that, however much he might stay away, he would still be 
held high in affection and esteem— went ottener to the pietty Swiss 
cottage than to any other house m Frankfort. And with, perhaps, 
greater pleasure. 

Ko demonstrations weie made in his honor; no costly meats were 
laid before him ; no rich wines were poured in his cup. But the 
doctor’s eyes never failed to brighten at his coming, and he was met 
with a warm hand-clasp at the study- door. Louisa’s pale cheek 
flushed with pleasure, and the children would show as much con- 
trolled joy as they dared to do. Sometimes he would come in at five 
o’clock, when Louisa’s tea was served in her sunny room, and, 
which was a very unusual thing, his presence always brought the 
doctor. Then Louisa, being petted and waited on by both, grew 
quite cheerful and forgot the never-ceasing headache. 

But Dr. Jacob’s heart ever yearned to children, especially to such 
gentle little children as those of Dr. Paulus, and he loved to come 
best of all when he was sure of finding all the little party at home. 
No one else would have dared to pet them as he did now; much less 
would any one have dared to invite them on half-holidays lor little 
pleasure excursions to the forest or Zoological Garden — but he did it 
with impunit}’. 

These days were like fairy-tales to the children. They treasured 
up the remembrance of them in after life, and never mentioned Dr. 
Jacob without sparkling eyes and eager lips. It was a bright time • 
for all. Bright for Dr." Jacob, who forgot, in this pure home atmos- 
phere, many deep anxieties and troubles of which no one knew; 
bright for Dr. Paulus, who loved to turn from work and care to the 
intercourse with a mind so vast and well stored; bright for Louisa, 
who lived on tcuderness and sj^mpathy— above all, bright for tie 
cliildrcn, who had enjoyed fewer fairy-tale days than fall to the 
share of most. 

hrauleiu Fink did not stand aloof from the general feeling. In 
early life she had spent a year or two in England, and though, poor 


40 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


lady, she was almost starved whilst acting as companion to an aristo- 
cratic spinster during that time, prided herselt upon an enthusiasm 
for anything English ever after. 

When, therefore, Aggie Brill and Katchen Esrgers spread daily 
reports of Dr. Jacob’s goodness and eloquence in the school, her 
curiosity knew no bounds. By lucky chance she obtained an intro- 
duction to him at the house of Mr. Brill, where she had called in 
the hope of settling up a long-standing account. Dr. Jacob made it 
a habit to be polite and pleasant to everyone; but Fraulein Fink went 
home convinced that to her well-chosen phraseology aud pure accent 
she owed his friendly chat aud gracious compliment. She went 
home, therefore, much in the state of exhilaration with which she 
was wont to return after a reverie in the cemetery. 

And now a grand idea took possession of her mind. We have be- 
fore noticed that, though perfectly retired and modest in her conduct 
of life, and though entirely free fi'om the kind of vanity so common 
to elderly ladies, the Fraulein Fink participated in a weaknes'^ to 
which that vanity leads. She was very fond of the society of the 
opposite sex. Half an hour’s conversation with a clever inan, she 
would say, was more to her than a poem of Goethe, or a holiday in 
the woods, 

On no account must our readers deceive themselves as to the pure 
intellectuality of the pleasure; merely a chat on passing events w'ould 
have been no moi-e to her from masculine than from feminine lips. 
It was not the beard but the brains she adored. A man who thought 
women wer-e only capable of listening to nonsense, she despised; a 
man, like Professor Beer, who discussed aesthetics, literature, or 
sociology with her, was a hero. 

Now, whatever may be the privileges of a single lady and school- 
mistress in England, in G« rmauy they do not extend to the power of 
inviting a gentleman to tea wilh‘ impunity. When the thing rs tlone, 
it must be done warily, and under many palliative circumstances. 
If the gentleman be married and accompanies his wife, all is well; 
if he be old, his bachelorhood may be passed over; if he be a bachelor 
and middle-aged, nothing short of stringent necessity prevents busy 
longues from wagging. For instance, when, some time since, Frau- 
Icin P’ink had a great deal of business on hand concerning her citizen- 
ship (for she was a S-iXon by birth, and only a Frankfort Burgherin 
by right of purchase and senatorial favor). Professor Beer was invited 
more than once to take “ the cup that cneers, but not inebriates,” in 
her little drawing-room, and no one thouglit of scaniializing the mat- 
ter Professor Schwab, too, of the Gymnasium, had now and then 
supped with her in former days. Biit since llaunchen had grown 
to a tine youn^ woman, and neither of the abov-e mentioned gentle- 
men was married, such pleasures must be given up. Tears often 
rose to Fraulein Fink’s eyes as she recalled hiose ‘‘ ‘’easts of reason 
and flows of soul.” She complained bitterly of llie social bonds by 
which she was forbidden to enjoj’' a little intercourse with mascu- 
line intellects over a cup of tea or glass of sugar-water. 

‘‘ Who can wonder,” she would" say “ Wv.xX Bettina ran into follies 
and excesses? Every woman of strong understanding and delicate 
susceptibilities is more or less templed to step over the barriers which 
a false etiquette has pui up.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


41 


As she returned home from Mr. Brill’s at the time of which we 
speak, a vision of Paradise dawned on her lively imagination. To 
converse with Professor Beer was a privilege wLich no woman in 
Frankfort, she thought, could fully comprehend but herself; to match 
his intellect against that of Dr. Jacob, and by her own poor little 
power of suggestion, to evolve and elucidate the noblest thoughts 
of both, as in chemistry the tiny drop of acid changes and develops 
the properties of mighty todies — this would be a delight indeed. 

She could not ask Dr. Jacob to read a paper before her pupils, be- 
cause two-thirds of them were Jewesses; she could not follow up her 
acquaintance with him by means of the Brill family, as she never 
visited at their house. Only one course, and that a bold one, could 
biing about her wishes. She must ask Dr. Jacob and Professor Beer 
to tea! She was known to have conuectionsin England — what more 
likely than that a prior intimacy would be taken for granted, and 
prevent any remarks upon her invitation? Then he was elderly, a 
clergyman, and had coUiC to Frankf«)rt on a mission in which most 
Christian men and women took an interest. Indeed, after dul}'" con- 
sidering the matter, she was inclined to think that such a step wmuld 
look well in the eyes of her patrons. As to Professor Beer, he had 
lately been at great trouble in the purchasing of her house for her, and 
it was a possible duty on her part to make him some little return. 
This view of the case she resolved to communicate to her friend, the 
PTau Directorin, at the next coffee-party. 

Accordingly, one morning Dr. Jacob was surprised by a modest 
little letter from the schoolmistress, inclosing half a dozen florins 
contributed by herself and governesses to his Mission Fund, and beg- 
ging his company to tea. With a smile, the clergyman put both let- 
ter and mone}^ aside. 

“ Why should I not go?” he thought. ” The donation is small, 
but the spirit in which it is given should receive encouragement. 
How the hearts of the PTankforters are warming to me already!” 


CHAPTER XL 

Fraulein Fine often legretted the prevailing materialism of the 
age. She bew-ailed the charming simplicity of intercourse which she 
had enjoyed in Diesden thirty years ago, when people had met to- 
gether merely to exchange ideas, and to sun themselves in the light 
of each other’s intellects. Then no other elements were needed but 
sociability, sugar-water, and refinement, to form the most delightful 
circles in the world. Alas! that we must now link such gross things 
as beer, sausage, and cherry-cake, even to the sacred name of friend- 
ship! Fraulein Fink, however, had learned in the words of Goethe, 
icir entsagen mu&sen,'' and renounced, as she received, with 
cheerfulness. 

A considerable conflict took place in her mind regarding the tea to 
be prepared for her guests: she wished it to be generous; she wished 
it to be relined; she wished it to be economical— the question was, 
liow to attain all these ends without detriment to one. To meet 
the first exigency ham would be necessary, but it was certainly in- 
compatible with the two others; accordingly ham received a veto. 


42 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


and confectionary took its place. ^ A little display of 

give an aristocratic and convivial air to tbe meal, was also resolved 

^^B^t a more serious difficulty presented itself. Professor Beer, like 
most Ollier Germans, only drank tea when he suffered from sick- 
headache or the loss of a relation; Dr. .Jacob, most probably never 
liked coffee, except after dinner; very few Enghslmien did. lo 
provide tea exclusively, would be to preclude all possibility of thirst 
on the part of the professor; to reverse the arrangement would be 
equally inhospitable to the clergyman. - A bjight thought dawned 
on her perplexed mind-Professor Bner ioyed beer as his ancestors 
loved it in the days of Tacitus; the latter beverage, therefore, with 
tea, anise bread, and sweet-cakes, composed her little feast. ^ 

Having made ready both her festal board and her person, Fraulein 
Fink next retired to the summer-house lo prepare her inner woman. 
On any trying emergencj", us w’e have seen, she resorted to solitude; 
and tlie promised pleasure, though a pleasure of the first water, 
brought deep anxiety with it. She must rub the work a-day rust oft 
her faculties in order duly to impress her visitors; and to that end 
she pondered over several ethical topics on wdiich she was strong, re- 
peated aloud one or two quotations that she resolved to introduce — in 
fiue, put her mind in its Sunday dress, omitting no attraction of 
ornament, or coquetries of fancy. 

I'rofessor Beer came as punctually, at six o’clock, as if he was 
engaged to give a lesson; Dr. Jacob walked in leisurely, halt an hour 
later, with the unconcerned air of a man who kno^vs that his com- 
pany is worth waiting for. Both visitors were as contrasted to each 
other as two men could possibly be, yet they soon fell into a pleasant 
animated conversation. The professor had lived long enough to 
value a good talker, no matter what might be his nation or view. 
Dr. Jacob liked everybody who -was not* dull or inquisitive. We 
must say a word regarding Fraulein Pink’s revered friend and coun- 
selor, before proceeding with the evening’s events. 

A little beyond middle height, and framed for strength rather than 
symmetry. With a square, well-set head, a deeply browned skin, 
black curly hair, ot that kind which looks as if it were spun out of 
iron, with a glint of steel in it here and there, a ragged beard, 
strongly marked features, expressive of an honest, healthy nature, 
and of a pei-severing and profound, but not of a lively or acute, un- 
derstanding, Professor Beer stands before us no unwmrthy son of 
Adam. You might, at the first glance, designate him as the last 
maii anj'' woman could either despise or love. Hannchen admired 
him, ’tis true, but then she was one of those young ladies who ad- 
mired all manner of professors on principle. Fraulein Fink, char- 
acteristically, owned to his outward imperfections, though to her 
they were but as the dark setting of jewels, only improving their 
brilliancy. 

“1 have the pleasure of knowing one or two of j’^our pupils, Herr 
Professor,” said Dr. Jacob, with his winning smile, “and from 
them 1 have heard your name often. Katchen Eggers, Mr. Brill’s 
ward, is especially warm in your praises.” 

_ The professor blushed~not red, l)ut a deeper browm. Personali- 
ties, however, complimentary, were as unpleasant to him as tea. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 43 

“ The Fraulein Eggers is very attentive, but less clever than 
Agatha Brill,” he replied, evasively. 

.Dr. Jacob continued, more as if following out a train of thought 
than diving into a subject: 

‘‘ 1 pity this little Katchen, poor child! Mr. Brill informs me that 
she has no parents, and very few friends.” 

‘*But she has money, Plerr Pfarrer,” put in the Fraulein Fink; 
‘‘ and money, though it makes us gross, and inclined to forego our 
higher aspirations and youthful enthusiasms, undoubtedly is a coU' 
soler.” 

” And a tempter,” added the professor. 

“ Say an avenging angel also,” said Dr. Jacob. ‘‘ If money leads 
us to sill, it also leads us to sorrow.” 

“Mine, earned by hourly and daily toils in the school-room,” 
added the schoolmistress, ‘‘has brought me no sorrow at present; 
only second to the sincere gratification of having formed the gram- 
matical style of some hundreds of young ladies, is the feeling of 
thankfulness and pure enjoyment and peace that monej" has brought 
me. AVhen my good friend here, Professor Beer, assisted me in 
purchasing my right of citizenship, how infinitely happy 1 felt in 
bujdng the privilege with florins toiled for in no worse a cause! Ah!” 
added Fraulein Fink, rapturously, ‘‘ nothing in my life equaled 
that moment. God be thanked !” 

Whilst she was speakingr..Dr. Jacob’s eyes followed her with a 
curious, half-contemptuous, half-wistful expression. He concluded 
the subject rather skepticall}^ : 

‘‘ After all, money is the end and aim of life. AVe eat, we drink, 
we rise, we lie down — to gain money. We take up professions, we 
make Irierkls, we adopt opinions, we hazard our soul’s peace— to 
gain money. For money, we throw away health, youtli — all that is 
best and beautiful under heaven. Money makes us slaves, sinners, 
rulers among men, saints in the eyes of the world. Well, the god 
must be worshiped, since it has been set up!” 

AVhich speech Fraulein Fink, not quite understanding, answered 
by a random quotation from ‘‘ Hermann and Dorothea,” wherein a 
worldly-wise father advises his son to marry a well-dowered maiden. 

” Sing a little song, my child,” said Dr. Jacob, touching Hann- 
chen’s arm; ” you shy little birds always have sweet voices.” 

The compliment was almost too delicate for Kannchen’s apprecia- 
tion; but the manner of it sent her to the piano, blushing like a 
June rose. 

Dr. Jacob was a Goethe among women. The most trifling word 
from his lips carried a charm yith it that cone could resist. Whether 
his quiet eloquence, or sweet voice, or caressing manner, or noble 
features inspired such unusual homage, it would be difficult to say; 
certainly, he had only to hold out his hand for every warm little 
heart to drop into it. 

Meantime, let us see how some other members of Fraulein Fink’s 
establishment are occupying themselves. 

Just as the drawing-room door opened to admit Lischen with the 
lighter and more elegant part of the tea, which was as dessert to 
dinner, Miss Macartney returned from her usual walk. It was, as 
we have remarked, a very unusual thing for the schoolmistress to 


44 DOCTOK JACOB. 

entertain gentlemen visitors, and Miss Macartney, withont being an 
inquisitive person, glanced naturally toward the open door, as she 

passed to her bedroom. ^ • 

Years after she remembered that moment, with every minute cir- 
cumstance attending it. She remembered how one red ray of sunset 
slanled over the polished floor of the gaudy little drawing-room the 
position of every chair, the affected pose of Fraulein Fink’s freckled 
hands; the tutorial attitude of Professor Beer, who sat as if he were 
narrating the Silesian War to the first class; the self-satisfied smile 
and blush of Hannchen in the act of rising from the piano; lastly, 
Dr. .Jacob’s large easy figure reclining in an arin chair, the way in 
which his soft white hair had been jmshed off his broad brow, the 
indolent toying of his fingers with a book, the complacent smite on 
liis lips— all this was photographed in her memory sooner than we 
can write it. 

She was a brave woman, and had learned her braver}’’ in a spirit- 
taming war years ago, but her courage ebbed very quickly now. Only 
the fear of worse things than she had yet undeigone, restiained her 
from a passionate cry. Every drop of blood fled iiom her dark 
cheek, every pulse beat as if she were in high fever, her knees 
trembled so that she could hardly help falling. 

Just then a cruel laugh from behind recalled her to herself. 

“ So,” hissed the light laughing voice of Mademoiselle Knppeliu, 
the French governess, “ you would like to be invited to drink tea 
with the Messieurs — eh?” 

The drawing-room was closed now, and Miss Macartney had, in 
a measure, recovered from her agitation. She felt disinclined to 
quarrel, but the false blue eyes of the Frenchwoman were not easily 
shut when they had once been opened to anything. She determined 
to sound the depth of her suspicions. 

“To whom do you allude, mademoiselle?” 

” Don’t be anaiy with me— if you admire him, 1 can feel for you. 
1 adore sentiment— let us sympathize with each other.” 

And the French girl laughed again, as if the thing were really a 
capital joke. 

” You are quite welcome to sympathize with me, or the professor, 
or with whom you please,” replied INIiss IMacartney, in a voice of 
relief;^ ” but I warn you that your sympathies with the Herr Levi, 
who lives opposite, had need be more closely concealed, if you wish 
to prevent a scandal. Y"ou mock me, mademoiselle — take care lest 
you mock me once too often. I would sweep the streets of Frank- 
fort rather than stoop to be the spy of a flirt; but you may find me 
turning to that before 1 suffer your insolence.” 

Mademoiselle shrugged her shoiildeis, and made a moue of discon- 
tent. 

The black bread and butter and taste of sausage are earned into 
the dining-room — will you not share our superb repast? 1 have sent 
out for five kreutzer- worth of beer to add to its splendor.” 

1 want no supper, thank you,” co dly said Miss Macartney, and 
turned away. 

As soon as shesaw^ the Frenchwoman fairly in the refectory below, 
slie descended by the front stairs, and closed the street-door behind 


DOCTOR JACOB, 


45 


Tired as she was, she could not rest in the house. On she rushed, 
without a pause or slackening of pace, till she had passed through 
the upper Maine Gate, and reached that promenade aptly called 
Beautiful View, which looks on to the limiiid Maine, and the old 
budge with its golden cock; and the red towers of Sachsenhausen, 
whose people, with their old-world simplicity and comic brogue, are 
so deliciously rendered by the German Robson of tin - day. 

hy do people always lounge on bridges? Whellier to the 
Micawber class who are expecting something to turn up, there is a 
kind of cheerfulness in the calm onward flow of the water which 
shows them, if not fishes, at least where fishes might be, 1 cannot 
tell; but so surely as there is a bridge, no matter it crossing the 
Danube, beneath the hoary dome of St. Stefan’s, or the Thames, 
with tempting ledges for suicidal temperaments, or the Seine, amid 
never-ending new buildings, which pet the people and hide old Paris 
from revolutionary eyes — it is ever the same. Biidges bring idlers. 

IMiss Macartney did not observe the calm loveliness of the scene; 
she did not see the blotch of gold, like a Templar’s shield, on the 
Cathedral; she did not see how the princely houses on lier right 
gleamed, as if of marble, against the warm purple sky; she did not 
heed the tiny plash of a pleasure steamer gliding into the quay; or 
tlie low-lying tobacco and corn -'fields stretcliing along the still, gray 
river, all aflame here and there, as if a shower of gold coins had 
been poured down on it; or the sounds of military music before the 
Burgomaster’s house, hard by; or the voices of happy children in 
the street. 

Utterly in self centered and unhappy, she retracted her steps 
slowly homeward. Choosing the winding public pleasaunce, rather 
for its quiet than for its beauty of lake, parterre, and rocky dell, she 
tried to bring herself to some course of action. 

Should she make herself known, and run all hazards of the ex- 
pediency of such a step— throwing down her die wildly, ready to 
lose or win all? Or should she wait, hardly in hope, hardly in 
despair, but silent and suffering? Could any one help her? Could 
Dr. Paul us? — if he were powerless to advise or assist, there was no 
counsel or aid in all Frankfort. Of this she felt assured. Fraulcin 
Fink was her best friend; and Fraulcin Fink was not the woman to 
trust with a secret. Dr. Paul us she could hardly call her friend, 
but he was wise, charitable, and a man of the world. She felt sure 
that he would pity and befriend her to the best of his power— but— 

Something, that was the softest and best part of her woman’s 
nature, held her back from a confidence involving a name still un- 
speakably dear. She recoiled from the idea, shocked, self-reproach- 
fuJ, humiliated— tears came into her eyes, and they fell, one by one, 
as she returned home. 

It is recorded of Mungo Park that, when lost in the desert, way- 
worn, hopeless, without courage to go on, or patience to stay, his 
despondent heart was turned from its hard mood by tlie sight of a 
tuft of moss The tiny, lovely creation, speaking, in its minuteness, 
so much of One whose hand fashions nothing amiss or in vain- tlie 
little living jewel, among endless wastes and arid rocks, declaring 
Spring to beSet in store for tlic woild, and vitality, even in its most 
insignificant forms, a thing God gives and loves— this simple spray ' 


46 


DOCTOB JACOB. 


of moss melled the traveler’s heart. “ If God cares for the moss,” 
he said, “surely he cares for me;” and he went on in a reliant 
frame of mind. 

So is it with woman, and the love to which her heart clings. She 
may be exiled far from the reach of its influence— it may appear to 
be dead, cold, oblivious— on she wanders, in the desert of a loveless 
life, till the dreariness of it makes her grow bitter, weakens her be- 
lief in the God to whom she has burned incense; finally, she is ready 
to lie down and die, crying that all is vanity! Then, softening and 
warming her poor wistful heart, comes some good memory of tlie 
Atlantis left far behind. A little thing — the merest w’aif from sum- 
mer days, long, oh! how long gone by! — is enough to bring back the 
old soft mood. She weeps, she prays, and goes on in the wilderness 
looking toward the future. 


CHAPTER Xll. 

The attendance at the brilliant table d’hote of the Hotel de Russie 
was considerably increased next daj' by a family party fresh from 
die Austrian baths. It consisted of a heavy-framed, hard browed 
Rayarian baron, his handsome and witty French wife, a son who 
had ]U8t entered the Austrian service, and some young children un- 
der the supervision of a tutor, or Hofmeister, and an Eno-lish o-qv- 

Dr. Jacob, who came into the salle d manger whilst the waiters 
wine-lists, could not suppress an exclamation 
baroness, 

inlt slightest shade of embarrassment, which 

“ Wp H i^ost well-bred smile in the world, 

fnv n« ^ thought hrankfort had so agreeable a surprise in store 

answered Dr. Jacob occu- 

njt 

enioyS " 

J‘tcob%STtPu^^«^ carelessly, and without looking up. Dr 

“ Ana at ’'’'‘■('“''‘“rt ^oes at 11, is seasin.” 

" W1 at re-enter the world.” 

“ dpfnL- re-entering the world?” 

Returning to Vienna, of course.” 

“1 P'etts™' uiusical laugh. 

visit^Xeturburonly’ L^nrv w° ^ 

bound." ° ^ “te East, whither I am 


DOCTOR JACOB, 


47 

anxious to put myself ip the mouth of gossipers. My object is 
purely and simply connected with my calling.” 

” In other words, you go upon business You never mentioned 
that ugly word at ischl. Is this city of millionaires a kind of 
Midas, turning everybody into a money-maker?” 

” All business is not money-making, my dear baroness.” 

The answer implied an error of tact in tlie question, and it was 
atoned for gracefully. 

” But even ‘ business,’ or words twice as unpoetical, shall be for- 
given you, if you save us from ennui in the Bergstrasse. ” 

Dr, Jacob bowed, and was about to reply, when the youngest 
member of the Ladenburg family plucked at his mamma’s sleeve, 
crying vigorously, 

“Mamma, won’t you let Miss Hedge have a little wine? — the 
governess we saw at Wiesbaden always had some.” 

At which the baroness smiled pleasantly, shook her head, and 
continued her dinner. When the seventh course was finished, the 
baron began to be talkative. 

“ We shall have coffee and cigars upstairs in half an hour; won’t 
you join us. Dr. Jacob? You used, 1 think, to smoke at Ischl.” 

“ in good company— yes,” replied Dr. Jacob, giving his arm to 
the baroness, and he did not relinquish it at the door of her room, 

“ Will you come in and wait for the coffee, or shall 1 send the 
tutor to fetch you?” asked the lady, 

“ Why that trouble? May I not have a romp with the children, 
as 1 used to do at Ischl?” 

She scanned his features narrowly, and said, in a low tone, — 

“ Can you bear to recall that time?” 

And he answered her so softly, that the two voices might have 
been taken for one. 

“ Wh}" not? The pleasure was, at least, equal to the pain.” 

The children now came up with the evident intention of being 
made much of. Poets have often written of the tenderness and 
beauty of childhood: is not the childhood of poetiy becoming rather 
an ideality than anything else? Are these flounced, furbelowed, 
elegant-mannered little men and women we see around us, any- 
thing like the children of poems and story books? Nowadays, the 
little ones no longer make friends v ith birds and primroses and 
woodland jo^'s — they do not live in the once child-world of simplest 
and most innocent tender things— they must have excitement, variety, 
worldliness — they must live in miniature the anxious varied life 
of society awaiting them— must have balls, theatricals, jealousies, 
fancies -in fine, must be children in size only. 

The little Ladenburgs were by no means fit subjects for the en- 
thusiasm of Wordsworth, Longfellow, or Victor Hugo. They had, 
it is true, good qualities intermixed with bad ones; but the former 
were less admirable on account of their disingenuousness, and the 
latter worse because they were the faults of worldly-minded men 
and Avomen. As they crowded round Dr. Jacob now, it was not in 
delight at meeting an old friend who had played games with them, 
told them stories, given them holiday treats; they fawned on him 
and flattered him in remembrance of his lavish gifts only, and were 


48 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


already calculating the chances of new .picture-books and bon-bon 
boxes. 

But they w^ere prett}^ clever, and high spirited, and Dr. Jacob took 
the same amount of interest in them as in the artless, child-like lov- 
ing Paulus circle. lie iiad a strange earnest way of watching all 
children. You might fancy, from the expression of his face at such 
times, that he could see far into their futures— that shadows of sin 
and sorrow crowded thick and fast into Ids reach of vision— that he 
felt indeed “ the days of man’s life to be few and evil.” Their 
merriest sallies made him sad, their most generous impulses brought 
a bitter smile to his lips. A man must have a tender heart and a 
long experience of the world to look on children so. Soon Hermann 
was sent to the tutor; Marie and Mathilde were dispatched to their 
governess; the baron and Count Josef sauntered to the balcony and 
the lady was left alone with her visitor. 

Both were silent for some minutes, yet both seemed anxious to 
speak. A streak of red warmed the cheek of the baroness, and her 
lips moved nervously during the silence. At last she rose, and lay- 
ing a white hand on his arm, said, deprecatingly, — 

” Dear friend, say first of all that you forgive me!” 

Dr. Jacob almost shook oft her hand in his impatience. 

” Let us not speak of it,” he cried, vehemently; “if we are to 
enjoy each other’s society we must utterly forget all that has hap- 
pened. In the name of our former friendship, 1 conjure jmu to be 
silent.” 

“ You say former friendship — is there to be no friendship now? 
Am 1 really unforgiven?” 

“ What have you done that you should ask that question? Y^our 
own heart alone can condemn or exonerate you — to me 3 ^ou have 
only been too generous.” 

He answered without looking up, and she sat down less tranquil 
than before. Her color .went and came, her nostrils dilated, a dan- 
gerous light gleamed in her eyes. By-and by, she said, coldly — 

“1 presume that you are no longer in ignorance of her where- 
abouts— nay, perhaps you have met.” 

“ Would to God that we had met. Baroness Ladenburg!” 

“ 1 cannot see that it is an end to be desired,” she continued, still 
coldly; “ what good could result from suc^i a meeting? Hone, I am 
convinced, that might add to the comfort or happiness of your life. 
Everything you can wish for is within your reach.” 

“ Everything— but home — is that nothing?” said Dr. Jacob, not 
without bitterness. 

The baroness caught up his words also, and with something of 
his tone. 

“ Home is a pretty word for girls and bo^^s who make love to each 
other out of school. It is uot tor men and women living in the 
world. Wherever you are, your jiosition and talents will procure 
you friends, influence, and much more (hat I could name if 1 liked ” 

“ Go on.” 

“ A ou have no right to trouble jmurself about one who has thrown 
off all nadiral claiijis upon you. Would it not be more reasonable 
to solace yourself in the friendship of those who are ready to make 


DOCTOR JACOR. 49 

sacrifices, who have already made sacrifices, to prove the strength 
of it.” 

Her voice had gradually softened in tone, and the last words tell 
honey-sweet on her listener’s ears. His lace changed from its retrib- 
utive look, lie held out both hands to her, with an implied will- 
ingness to be convinced. 

” You can but know your own power — wliy blind yourself to the 
incalculTible advantages to be derived from the exercise of it. Live, 
and do not content jmurself with existence only. Frame your lite 
after the most approved pattern of your Church. Does that pattern 
forbid the greater part of your victories and enjoyments? JNo — a 
hundred times, no.” 

” Yes — a hundred times, yes,” answered Dr. Jacob with a dis- 
turbed look. ” VVould you force me to be a renegade? remember 
the difference between your Church and mine!” 

” 1 do remember it; but j’our profession does not enjoin upon you 
the renunciation of human passions and weaknesses. You are a 
clergyman— you are but a man.” 

” Pretty sophist!” he said, smiling self complacently, as if, fiom 
his height of mental character and superiority, not dreaming for an 
instant that her words carried influence with them; ” if 1 could 
only carry half your winning w^ays with me, what converts should 1 
not make!” 

” Yet 1 cannot make one. Y^ou flatter me by your words, and 
show that you despise me by ^mur conduct.” 

Dr. Jacob was about to answ^er, when Count Josef entered. 
Coffee and the baron followed, and their Ute-d-Ute was not renewed 
that day. 


CHAPTER Xlll. 

The baroness had formed a party to see “ Don Sebastian ” that 
evening; but Dr. Jacob declined her invitation to join it, and re- 
tired at once to his room. 

Deep thoughtfulness had taken possession of him. At other times 
he wmuld have thrown himself into the first arm-chair that offered, 
rung for a bottle of Rudesheimer and the ” Times,” lighted a cigar, 
and indulged himself after his own heart. To-night he stood long 
and pensively at the wundow, looking out. 

The Zeil appeared gayer than usual, for the tide of Rhine tourists 
was flowing in. The shops glittered with lights, and with the 
choicest treasures Frankfort could offer: rare antiques and bijouterie 
were displayed against a background composed of grotesque Majol- 
ica vases and cups; Tacchi’s show of softly-colored Bohemian glass 
looked like a hanaing conservatory tilled with the richest flow^ers. 
To the right, Albert’s wmnderful toys made a gay blotch in this 
street picture. To the left wmre the quieter-hued but more beautiful 
collections of cameos and wmrks of art cut in stag’s horn. All the 
choicest treasures of Frankfort art and manufacture were arrayed 
to tlie best advantage; and ladies w^eaiing unmistakable English 
bonnets clustered round them; broad-shouldered young squires 
strolled i)ast the old guard-house, and bought grapes of the plump 
old woman wiio kept a movable shop there; no squalid beggars, no 


60 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


unfortunate street-sweepers, no demoniac-looking outcasts; very few 
care-worn faces spoiled this pretty picture — as pretty a street picture 
for color, character and cheerfulness as Europe can show. 

Dr. Jacob took no heed of all these things. He did not see the pur- 
ple and gold of the twilight sky, or the picturesque gabled roofs 
shining against it; he did not see the groups of gay ladies, or hear 
the merry laugh of children passing by. He did not heed the buzz 
of three or four professors discussing politics in the street below, or 
the sound of a sweet voice singing in an adjoining apartment. The 
placid stream of German life ebbing by him was as absent frorn his 
mind as the waifs and strays. of English society that had drifted 
upon it. 

Two voices in the balcony below broke his reverie. They were 
those of the baron and Count Josef, who had come thither to 
lounge away half an hour before going to the theater. What they 
talked of would not be pretty to transcribe were this narrative in- 
tended for readers of our sex only; enough to say, that they chatted 
jocosely on such subjects as one would hardly suppose a father 
would broach to his son. 

Dr. Jacob shut his casement with a shrug of the shoulders, and 
an exclamation of disgust. He admired women, and was admired 
by them, as only few men are; but he admired no women who w'ere 
immodest, and he would not have given a straw'^ for the wmiship of 
all the flower of European Hetaeree. No one could win so easily — 
no one cared so little to win, except after his own fashion. Within 
the pale of refined societ}’-, among witty, delicate ladies and fair girls, 
he took pride in being able to supplant men wiio might have been 
his grandsons. He knew that his eyes and voice could still withstand 
* the honeyed compliments and languishing glances of fashionable 
cavaliers, but he only exercised his influence in saloons and draw- 
ing-rooms. So far as his purity of life went. Dr. Paulus had no 
cleaner hand to offer a woman than Dr. Jacob. Therefore, to hear 
the husband of a pretty, brilliant woman conversing with his beard- 
less son, on all kinds of Bohemian adventures, caused him to 
wince as it under sharp pain. 

He paced up and down his luxurious apartment with drooping 
head and clouded brow\ The baroness had proved herself in more 
than one instance to be his friend; the old kind manner, the old 
winning coquetry, were not wanting in her welcome to him; his cold- 
ness had still pow'cr to hurt, his frowm still power to humble; he 
knew that her actions and words were under his command — yet he 
felt wearied. His empire over her was one that he was willing to re- 
linquish. He did not need her now as he had once needed her, and 
she had served him more for her own ends than for his; surely there 
could be no injustice in withdrawing from an intercourse into w^hicli 
he had never pushed himself? 

Other thoughts came to his mind; llioughts of his life before he 
called himself her friend, before he knew the spell of her wit, tier 
beauty, her wiles. Some tenderness, some regret must have been 
mingled with these recollections, for, though he abhorred sadness, 
they clung to him, and even in his sleep they hovered fitfully around 
-his pillow. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


51 


Traveling with three children, a grown-up son, a tutor, a govern- 
ess, a French bonne, and a coachman, is not all pleii«ure, even to a 
competent hand at bolding the domestic reins, as was the baroness. 
The children, being spoiled at all times and hardened to the utiiiost, 
naturally treated papa and mamma capriciously, as they were taught 
to treat their inferiors — being good-natured when it suited them, 
and overbearing at other times. Count Josef was ever leazing lor 
money, flirting with the bonne on the sly, and provoking the Phr- 
glish governess openly, because she refused to be flirted with; the 
tutor, good, harmless soul, was pleasant at all times, but especially 
pleasant at meal times; played with the children, when mamma’s 
ill-temper had driven them Irom her room, advised and consoled the 
governess in all her hours of need of unhappiness; smoked the 
baron’s bad cigars, and listened to his coarse jokes with a smile; 
posted the father’s, or the mother’s, or the son’s secret letters, with- 
out troubling himself to think what they were about — in fine, did 
much dirty work, with good will, and kept out of scrapes. The 
baron had an aggravating way of being amiable just when his wife 
wished him to be otherwise, and vice verm. The English governess 
(it makes one’s heart sick to see the number of our friendless young 
countrywomen abroad) had a still more aggravating habit of being 
neither amiable nor unpleasant, but simply indifferent; the bonne 
had hundreds of faults, and, in the eyes of her mistress, no humani- 
ties 

To prevent this “ chaotic haven of activities,” as Mr. Carlyle sa3’s, 
from getting the better ot her, involved no little amount of ability 
and will on the part of the baroness, and both these she possessed in 
a high degree. Prudence failed her in monetary transactions— that 
is to say, she generally made arrangements in advance of the baron’s 
funds, Uiereb}'- trying the patience of her tradesmen ad infiiniu'ni ; 
but no one is infallible, and slie had been brought up with rallier 
lax principles as to debit and credit. In person the baroness was 
very attractive, with dark hair and ej’es, a bright peachy complex- 
ion, rounded figure, small hands, and perfect taste in diess. She 
wore veiy bright colors, it is true; but small black-ej^ed ladies can 
do this with impunity, especially in a cariiage, and she almost lived 
ill her carriage. Her husband needs but a short description. There 
are several kinds ot German barons; some are soldierl}", chivalric, and 
good-tempered, a little heavy indoors, perhaps, and seen to belter 
advantage at the chase, but always ready to smile at trifles, always 
read}' to like what conics in their way, and always adored by their 
servants at a proper distance; a few are soldierly only m the cruel 
old-world way, go into paroxysms of rage if a valet or dog ofleiid, 
vituperate any unlucky governess who manages to make their chil 
dren fond of her, are unread in the ways of the world, parsimonious 
to miserliness in their dealings, and boors in society. 

Baron Ladenburg w'as a type ofdhe latter class Haughty where 
he should be gentle, clinging where it was his duty to be proud, 
wrong-beach d on most matters, and opinionated on all; fond ot his 
children after a manner that made them grow up without respect for 
himself or love for anybody else, fond of his wife after a manner 
that allowed her perfect liberty w ithout the right or wish to control 


BOCTOE JACOB. 


52 

it, fond of all pretty women till they began to care for him; such 
was the Baron* Ladenburg. 

Knowing and valuing, as we do, the good and cheery qualities of 
the German national character, and wishing to present a fair portrait- 
ure of it, without picking or choosing sitters, it behooves us, never- 
theless, to cut as much darnel as grows with the corn.^ You will 
find the rate of proportion about the same in Germany as in England. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Two or three days after, as Dr. Jacob sat calmly answering a pile 
of letters one by one, Di‘, Paulus entered in no ordinary state of ex- 
citement. 

After a hurried greeting, he began: 

“ 1 have came upon an unpleasant business, Dr. Jacob — 1 am sorry 
to say that you have enemies in Frankfort. Whethtr you have 
knowingly or unknowingly made them, it is but just that you 
should be made aware of their existence.’' 

Dr. Jacob looked up with his quiet, undisnia 5 "ed smile. 

“ My dear brother, who has not enemies? I only wish that all 
were as iiarmless as mine.” 

” Malice is never quite harmless,” Dr. Paulus answered, shortly; 

‘‘ and no one, 1 think, has a greater right or need to disarm it than 
yourself.” 

” Why so?” 

” The reason is obvious enough, but you must forgive me for 
stating it so plainly. You are a stranger here — granted^that, in the 
short space of three weeks, you have created for yourself an interest 
and an influence which are quite sui prising, they stand upon founda- 
tions of sand, and in an hour may be shaken.” 

” 1 do not understand you,” said Dr. Jacob settling himself into 
a comfortable listening attitude; ” who are the conspirators against 
me? What benefit to themselves, or what injury to me, do they pro- 
pose by their enmiiy?” 

Dr. Paulus answered by putting a letter into his hand. It was 
written in fair English characters, and was anonymous. The pur- 
port of it, from first to last, was pure and simple distrust. Dr. 
Jacob was not to be trusted, the writer said; his antecedents were 
unworthy of his calling; his so-called mission wns merely a means 
of obtaining money; his life was in no wise framed after the pre- 
cepts he taught. To Dr. Paulus, as one of the most respected repre- 
sentatives of the English Ciiuich in Frankfort, the letter had been - 
addressed, m the hope that it might lead him to act warily, and with 
due consideration for the future. Dr. Jacob was making a tool of 
him, as he had already made tools of many good men and women; 
he was fore-warned,_ it rested with himself to be fore-armed. 

^ Dr. Jacob read this strange letter with a singularl}'- placid expres- 
sion of face; and, after the reading, surrendered it silently to Dr. 
Paulus. 

‘‘ Wliat course of action do you propose to yourself?” asked the 
latter gentleman, iiiquisitivelv. 

“ Simply— none whatever. ISuch slanders can only influence the 


DOCTOU JACOB. 


53 

class of people to whose opinions I am inditterent; let copies of this 
letter be circulated here by tens and twenties, how could they hurt 
me with my real and valued friends — who are few?” 

”1 think,” Dr. Paulus began, persuasively, “that you underrate 
the wmight of such a matter. In my owm eyes, it is serious; firstly, 
because the best people here are but too liable to suspicions; and, 
secondly, because the multitude (and jmu would do w'ell to respect 
ii) outnumber the thinking, reasoning people by far.” 

“ That may be true, my friend; but fortunately, there is only one 
lie against me, and 1 can command a legion of truths. After all, to 
ignore malice is to disarm it. I am not of a nature to be easily 
moved from my equanimity by such things — why should an old man 
be at the trouble of stooping to root up a nettle that has stung him? 
No, no; the letter will run its course, unhindered by me.” 

” Will you not at least keep it?” asked Dr. Paulus. 

Dr. Jacob smiled. , 

“ On second thoughts, 1 will. It is a curious literary curiosity, 
and on your account, 1 should be irlad to trace its origin — depend on 
it, the secret will out before-long.” 

Dr. Paulus was one of those men who are always hot and hurried, 
who have a hundred things on Hand, who do them thoroughly, and 
who have no leisure. Accord iugl)^ he rose to go when his errand 
was done. 

“ Come to us when you can,” he said at the door; “ it is the one 
delight of my wife and children to see you; but, pardon me, if 1 
put my veto upon your bringing them any more presents. That 
costly vase of Jjouisa’s, Connie’s pretty ring, and the numerous 
books and toys given to the younger children have filled me with 
shame. Really, you will drive me to the pain of a refusal, if — ” 

“Nonsense!” Dr Jacob said, smilingly ; “ whilst 1 am here, you 
must bear with me — 1 shall soon be so far off that your dear wife 
and children will need some reminders of their friend.” 

And Dr. Paulus left the room, hoping that their parting was not 
to be yet. As soon as his step had died a^ ay, Dr. Jacob put aside 
his papers, and locking the door after him, sought the Baroness 
Laden burg 

Since the first day of their meeting he had only seen her twice, 
and in large societies— the first time at the table d'hote, the secoud at 
a dinner given by the baron in his own rooms. Consequently, no 
words had passed between them beyond the merest convei*satioual 
formalities. Once or twice the baroness had shown someihing of 
her for mer sparkling raillery and winning softness, but, ordinarily, 
she had been cordial, and nothing more. 

She rose with a gratified look to meet him. 

“This is really delightful of you!” she exclaimed, laughing 
gayly. “ I was so solitary, and you have just saved me from fall- 
ing into a passion with Josef for taking out my pet horse when 1 
wanted him. Will you lunch with me off ices and confectionery, 
after the fashion in Vienna?” 

“ Willingly — but 1 must talk to you first, and my subject is seri- 
ous.” 

“ I have something also serious that 1 could communicate to you 
if it suited me,” she amswered, looking at him closely. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


54 

He drew the anonymous letter from his pocket, and, without 
preface, read it from beginning to end. She heard him attentively, 
and never once took her eyes from his face. 

“ What is your opinion as to the authorship of this?” he asked, 
scrutinizing her in turn. 

“ First ol all, tell me on whom your own suspicion rests.” 

“ 1 have hardly suspected any one at all: if Iwent deeply into the 
subject, there are several persons who might occur to me as capable 
of such folly.” 

” Why speak in enigmas? — of all people in the world, should 1 
betray your secrets?” 

She said this with an impatient flash of her dark eyes, and, rising 
to her feet, paced the room as she was wont to do when in a passion. 
Her bright abundant hair fell in loose braids over her blue cashmere 
morning-dress, and her delicate rosy cheeks looked more delicate 
still tor the hei^itened color that excitement had given them. Un- 
doubtedly she was a woman to be admired, despite her failings. 

” 1 cannot understand this want of confidence in me,” she went 
on, impetuously, “ after our long friendship, atter the many proofs 
1 have shown of my inability to act contrary to your wishes; after 
my own assurances of regard, surely you will yourself allow that 
such conduct is alike ungenerous and uncalled for?” 

He replied coldly: 

‘ ‘ My dear baroness, 1 do not wish to vex you — on the contrary, I 
would do an^dhing that might be reasonable and expedient to add to 
your happiness.” 

“My happiness!” she broke in, with impatient sarcasm; “you 
have proved long ago that my happiness is utterly indifferent to 
you.” 

“ No— 1 have only proved that 1 respect you too much to allow 
■even your happiness to stand in the way of your honor. We En- 
glishmen give undivided friendship to one woman only — the woman 
we make mistress of our house and mother of our children.” 

“ And when such ties are broken— broken beyond all possibility 
of re-union— as they are with you, you prefer to act up to your 
principles of barren honor at whatever cost to others?” 

“ And to ourselves. Remember that some self-sacrifice is in- 
volved, Baroness Ladenburg.” 

She sat down and met his eyes with an expression of doubt lOo 
plain to misconstrue; without appearing to notice it, he continued — 

“ We shall soon part, perhaps for years, perhaps for the space of 
our lives; will you not let -me carry away a remembrance of kind 
words from you? Will you not be gentle and forgiving with me? 
—it is not for long that 1 ask it.” 

“ In plainer words, you wish me to be submissive and obedient 
under your exactions.” 

“ 1 did not say that. 1 have not yet exacted anything from j'^ou— 
1 would rather not do so.” 

Her face lit. A triumphant, bitter smile played on her lips. 

“ You cannot throw me oft so easily, if you w’ould; it remains to 
be seen whether the power is all on your side. Dr. Jacob, since my 
arrival in I rankfort, i have been put in possession of a clew to the 


DOCTOR JACOB 


55 


mystery which has saddened your life so long; in other words, I 
have seen the person whom you have sought, and still seek in vain.’’ 

“ Is that the truth, and nolhifig but the truth, Baroness Laden- 
burg?” he asked, sternly, 

‘‘ What better proof is needed than that letter?” 

Though outwardly unmoved, she knew that the blow had hit hard; 
and, with ciueler words still, assailed again and again the bruised, 
bleeding place. 

” Who else would try to imbitter your life? Who else would be 
at the pains of dishonoring your name? No man, even with sufli- 
cient motive, would be mean enough to use so cowardly a means— a 
woman only can be generous to the utmost, and mean to the utmost. 
Whose heart but hers would rejoice at your ruin?” 

“ Tell me the naked truth,” he said, vehemently, ” and leave me 
to comment upon it. 1 cannot hear such things said of her, least of 
all by you.” 

” And if 1 choose to withhold both truth and commentaries?” 

He was too self-controlled, and too imimpassioned a man to agitate 
himself lightly, but he could not restrairv his impatience then. All 
his suspense, all his suffering; was written in his face, and she read 
both with mixed feelings. It was the aim of her life to obtain mas- 
tery over him; but she would sooner have foregone it, than won 
through the agency of another, that other whom he loved, but she 
hated. 

” If I should withhold the truth?” she repeated. 

” You will not refuse it,” he answered quietly, and at the same 
time fronted her with implacable features; ” nor will you torture me 
at will. Speak out, and at once.” 

” If I am good, 1 suppose you will bu5’'me a toy— if 1 am naughty, 
to what dark cupboard will you consign me?” she said, with a 
scoffing devil in her eyes. 

‘‘1 am in no mood tor jesting. Baroness Ladenburg, and by 
heaven! if you trifle with me further, 1 will never seb yoil, much 
less speak to jmu, again.” 

Then she burst from him in a passion of jealous tears, and walked 
to and fro, holding her hands before her face, 

“Have you no heart?” she cried, between short, proud sobs; 
‘‘ have you no pity for— why should 1 not say it— for a woman who 
loves you? What are you that you should be so immovable? what 
am 1 that I should be so trodden under foot? My sufferings, ray 
solitude, my affections are as nothing to you, whilst the sound of her 
name fills you with eager joy and longing. You drive me from you, 
and 1 have proved myself truer to you than she has done.” 

” Therese,” he said, reproachfully, as one might chide a child; 
” Therc^se, before you say more, think of your children, and of the 
duty you owe them.” 

The tone of his voice and the touch of his hand seemed to calm 
her. After a fcAV minutes, site looked up with hard, dry eyes. 

“Hear me, then, and go,” she exclaimed; “go it you will, to 
come again no more. She whoiri you seek is in Fiankfort — I have 
the testimony ot my own eyes (o ju'ove it.” 

‘‘ Such a possibility had occurred to me also,” Dr. Jacob said, 


56 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


with the. voice of a dreaming man; “ but you have seen her, 
Ther^se?” ^ 

“ I have seen her. 

“ There is no possibility of j^our being deceived?” 

“ Are 3 ^ou mad?” she replied, scorntully. “ 1 was as near to her 
as 1 am to you now— 1 might have touched her had 1 stretched out 
my arm. Is her face of all others so easily forgotten by me?” 

“Strange!” he murmured to himself; then added aloud — “Tell 
me when and where this took place— omit nothing.” 

“ I was driving 3 ''esterday round the Kossmarkt,” continued the 
baroness, “ and had occasion to call at a jeweler’s shop just opposite 
the Gutleuberg monument. As 1 alighted, she passed me, our dresses 
brushed, and 1 think 1 was recognized— 1 know not. There is no 
more to tell.” 

“ But this letter?” 

“ Is penned from her dictation, without a doubt. Who else would 
have conceived such treachery?” 

His brow darkened. 

“ Remember what taught her treachery. Baroness Ladenburg. 
No, only her own words shall ever convince me that she has stooped 
to throw a dirt 3 ' stone at me.” 

“ You have not 3 ^et named those whom you suspect.” 

“ 1 have ill-wishers in England. Tliey would easily find agents 
here for their little game— well, let them play it out to' their hearts’ 
content. And now we will not recur to this subject again, or to any 
subject calculated to spoil our chat or our luncheon. Let me help 
3^11 to an ice, and hear from you an account of ‘ Don Sebastian. ’ 1 

heard that beautiful opera many years ago when at Munich.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

It was characteristic of Dr. Jacob, that though the tidings he had 
just heard moved him more than anything else could have done, he 
composedly finished his letter-writing, iook his usual stroll on the 
Zeil, lounged at Milani’s, over the “ Times,” and, after a late din- 
ner, set oft to Mr. Brill’s, in order to keep an engagement with the 
children. He was the idol of the young. Perhaps the serenesi hours 
of his life were those spent among bright young faces and merry lit- 
tle voices. Perhaps the most troubled ones would have been avoided, 
had this atmosphere always remained about him. ft is certain that 
the presence of childhood is a wonderful purifier of life: and Dr. 
Jacob felt convinced of this, despite his somewhat morbid habit of 
contemplating it, his sensibility to the nascent evil in it, and his dis- 
trust of human nature generall 3 ’’. 

On the evening in question, he had promised to take the Brill chil- 
dren, with Katcheu Eggers, to the theater, an amusement in Avhich 
the young take share much more frequently in German 3 ’' than with 
us. To every German heart, from (hat of the deepest thinking 
Kantean philosopher to the humblest kitchen Lischen, or tiniest tod- 
dlekins in the nursery, the theater embodies all that is pleasant, free 
from care and full of delightful emotions. Accordingly, no sooner 
had Dr. Jacob set foot in the chaplain’s garden, than Plory, Tommy, 
and Emmy ran out to meet him with wild excitement. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


57 

He smiled kindly on all, and allowed the youngest to lead him by 
the hand into the play-room. There he found Katchen dressed, like 
Werther’s Charlotte, in white cambric, adorned with blue ribbons, 
busily cutting black bread and butter. Tea, in Germany, is for 
elders onl 3 '’, and the younger ones, wilhout wishing or expecting any- 
thing better, go to their “ afternoon bread ” with unabated relish, 

“ Aggie and 1, being (he eldest, have coffee,” said Katchen, with 
an artless blush, “ Do, Dr. Jacob, join us? Kun, Emmy, for a cup 
and a white roll.” 

“That will be delightful,” answered Dr. Jacob; “and 1 have 
luckily brought a packet ot nut-cakes with me. We are all your 
guests, Katchen; let us see what a good little hostess you make.” 

He sat down beside her, and the girl, flushing with pleasure, 
poured out her thin coffee with the prettiest shyness in the world. 
Katchen was Dr. Jacob’s favorite. Perhaps on account of her sad 
stoiy, he had felt such interest in her from the first. Five years 
ago, her father, who was a wealthy merchant in Russia, had brought 
her over to be educated at Mr. Brill's, that gentleman having been 
recommended to him by his banker. Whilst on this visit, Herr 
Eggers died suddenl}’-, leaving the little orphan in hei happ}'-, but 
somewhat turbulent home, to grow up amid Influences good and bad, 
and to have such lessons of life as chance might throw in her way^. 

IShe was now on the verge of eighteen. Undine-like, ein wunder- 
(ic7wn.es Mddchen, with chestnut- hair, girlish, mirthful, wondrous 
blue eyes, and mignonne features; she had a dimpled chin, which 
the Germans esteem as a great beauty, and, moreover, a sign of in- 
ward purity, supporting thdr taste by a pretty church legend. It is 
said that the infant Saviour, when in a playful mood, pressed his 
fingers lightly on the chin of St. Barbara, who transmitted through 
generations this loveliness and mark of heavenly favor. Katchen 
might have been in the mind of that pupil of Francesco Vanini, 
whose timid, tender Madonna draws one from the more beautiful Del 
Sartos or Raphaels in the B»dvedere Gallery at Vienna. 

Character Katchen hardly possessed yet, nothing having hap- 
pened to develope it; heart, feeling, impulse, she had in plenty, as 
will be seen hereafter. 

Trave ers in the Bavarian Tyrol are guided from the gloomy, albeit 
grand Kdrdgssee, to a tiny lake, entirely shut in by wild peaks. The 
waters of tiiis lake are so limpid as to reflect eveiy rosy cloud or 
golden ray of the heavens, every vein of color, every species of vege- 
tation of the mountains; the lake itself is utterly without character- 
istic, save this -most lovely one — its power of reflection, its utter 
oneness with the things it absorbs, and repeats, and recreates untiring 
ty. All is still and solitary around. Only the dim sound of a 
cattle-bell on the heights, or some pictured Virgin nailed to the rocks 
here and there, recall the outei world. 

The hearts ot many pure women arc like this lake, living only in 
the love of some stronger nature, reflecting, and c<mtented to reflect, 
only what the nature first gives, loving it better for loving nothing 
less. And such w'as the heart ot Katchen. 

The play room parts’ was merry enough. Dr. Jacob did not so 
much amuse young jieople as lead them on to amuse him; he sug- 
gested, opened fresh fields bir -peculation, guided them within sight 


58 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


of a new object, then drew back. He was not a great talker at any 
time; close observers of human nature seldom are; but every word 
he said had originality in it. 

As the girls rose to fetch their hats, Katchen locked her little 
hands around Dr. Jacob’s arm, and said, simply— 

“ I almost feel sorry we are going to the theater. We are so happy 
with you here.” 

” Are you, my child?” he asked, fondly, and laid his hand upon 
her fair head reverently, as if he w.ere giving a blessing. Just then 
Mrs. Brill emerged from the kitchen in rather a promiscuous toilet. 

” Do let me speak a word to you before starting. Dr. Jacob. I 
would have come sooner; but my stupid cook has just broken a stew- 
pan, and it took me ten minutes to make her understand that she 
must buy another.” 

” As many minutes as you please, Mrs. Brill, if the young folks 
won’t run away.” 

” 1 merely wished to say,” continued the lady, in an undertone, 
” that should the opportunity arise, you might be so kind as to intro- 
duce Aggie to the Baroness Ladcuburg, whom you mentioned last 
night as being an old acquaintance. Aggie is growing up, and — and 
of course with so many others growing up too, we wish the elder 
ones to get into the world.” 

Dr. Jacob’s brow knit. 

” The baroness is for herself charming,” he replied, ” and would, 
1 have no doubt, be delighted to form Miss Aggie’s acquaintance; but 
perhaps you are not aware, Mrs. Brill, that she has a son?” 

” Quite aware of it,” Mrs. Brill said, ^lilingly. 

” This son. Count Josef, is hardly a fit person toi; your young 
daughter and ward to know. He is, to say the least of it, a roue, 
worse still, a beardless one; excuse me for speaking plainly, but your 
candor exacts mine in return.” 

She smiled oft her disappointment, and the little party set oft, the 
girls carrying scarves on their arms, tor the cool wahc home. Just 
outside the Gall us Thor was a fruit-stall, at which Dr. Jacob paused, 
in order to fill the pockels of the younger ones w’ith peaches. Whilst 
so engaged, a delicate-gloved hand was laid on his shoulder, and the 
voice of all voices most unwelcome then, cried out in his ear — 

How delightful to see 3 mu en famille, Herr Doctor! Do let me 
join jmu, and I will promise to behave my best!” 

” Good evening, Count Josef,” answered Dr. Jacob, dryly. 

‘‘Won’t you invite me to share in your evening’s pleasure? 
Whatever jmur plan may be, 1 will fall into it delightedly. J\Iy 
mother is so out of temper that 1 would rather face all the troops of 
France than her; my father has put me into his black books because 
a five-hundred-florin bill has just come in from my tailor at Gottin- 
gen; the children and their belongings don’t allow me a minute’s 
quiet in the salon — was ever sp miserable a wu’etch in the world?” 

Dr. Jacob could not forbear \smile, and Count Josef continued — 
‘‘ 1 suspect something has gone wrong with the baroness, for I 
do not know when 1 have seen her looking so thorouglily out of 
health, spirits, and temper as she does to-day. We used to say at 
Isclil, Dr. Jacob, that if mamma feared any one in the world it was 
you: have you scolded her or done anything to occasion this mood? 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


59 

1 know that mamma, like all pretty women, wants a great deal of 
admiration. Give it to her, dear Herr Doctor, for our unfortunate 
sakes.’’ 

“ That I must leave for younger men, count; if, in the character 
of an old friend, 1 speak unpalatable truth to the baroness, 1 cannot 
help it. Remember, this is not the first time 1 have unwittingly 
made her angry.” 

” If 1 only had an ugly mother, I should be the happiest man 
alive,” added Count Josef, philosophically; “a pretty, capricious 
woman is always on the look out for flattery, and ahva 3 ’^s read}'' to 
take jealous affront —is delightful in every capacity but one— her 
mammahood. Depend upon it, the wise men of the world do Avell 
to make love to handsome girls, and marry plain ones. 1 shall act 
upon this principle myself.” 

Meantime, Di. Jacob had fallen back from his young companions, 
in order that Count Josef's theories might not reach their ears, and 
they were now in the Kombuien-Platz, opposite the theater. With 
a graceful apology at his intrusion. Count Josef followed the- little 
party to their seats, and took his piace beside the not unwilling Ag- 
gie. ' Katchen, always shy in the presence of strangeis, sat next to 
Dr. Jacob, and with giilish eagerness kept her eyes fixed on the cur- 
tain. 

The piece was “Katchen of Heilbronn.” Katchen is a peasant 
maiden, and loves a lord of the laud. In spite of his coldness, in 
spite of the difference of rank, in spite ot the difficulties and dangers 
wMthout number, Katchen follows her lover the world over, and by 
sole virtue of her dear love wins him at last. 

One scene is charming. She lies asleep in awmod; her lissome 
form, dressed in the Wurtemberg costume of a hundred years back, 
looks all the prettier for the solitude around. Her fair childish feat- 
ures are rippled now and then with the smile of a happy di earn. 
Whilst she is sleepins: and smiling so, her beloved one comes that 
way. He is attracted b}’’ her loveliness, approaches her, takes her 
hand, and she speaks to him, still dreaming. 

During the last and most poetic part of the play. Count Josef and 
Aggie paid little heed, having too much to say to each other, but 
Dr." Jacob watched Katchen with interest. With her small hands 
clasjted, and her pretty head thrown forward, she seemed to drink 
in every word as it reached her ears; the love, the freshness, the 
beauty of the piece inthralled hei, tinted her cheeks with a rosy 
bloom, lighted her eyes, and lent an eager joyous smile to her lips. 
Eveiy now and then, her teal's came, and her bosom heaved; but 
when the curtain fell, she turned away her face and said not a word. 

“ 1 haven’t seen that piece so welf acted in Vienna,” said Count 
Josef, as the little party made their way into the Platz; “ the Kat- 
chen was so in practice, too, 1 could not hear the prompter at all.” 

“ h'or my part,” said Aggie, “ Katchen (not you, Katchen, my 
dear) was little less than a simpleton, and 1 wish the duke had mar- 
ried the piincess instead.” 

“ And what does our little Katchen sa.y?” asked Dr. Jacob. 

Katchen would not speak till Count Josef had dropped behind, 
and then it was in a half whisper. 


60 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


“ She was beaiitifnl, and she did rightly. 1 should like to have 
been ‘ Katchen of Heilbronn.’ ” 


CHAPTER XVL 

The clock pointed to three, and the twenty first-class girls were 
aw^aiting Professor Beer. Uf all the masters he was the only one 
feared and loved by iiis pupils; M. Tremouly was a fop. and the 
young ladies tittered boldly when he was speaking, looked impu- 
dent when he found fault, and put little vahie on his praise; the poor 
old writing-master had given up the attempt at managing them long 
ago, leaving those to take heed who would, and the rest to their 
fate; the meek young Lutheran minister obtained a patient hearing 
for his religious lesson, because of Fraulein Fink’s supervision; the 
ciphering master had to contend with whisperings, joggings, nudg- 
ings, and quiet jokes; mademoiselle, by bawling and vituperating, 
procured a little'quiet; Miss Macartney’s large firm eyes stared her 
younger pupils into awe, and the elder ones into something like at- 
tention. 

Professor Beer had somehow obtained the complete mastery of 
these wild young things, though he was not an imposing man, and 
took little trouble about the matter. Every one of his pupils had, at 
some time or other,, writhed under his unsparing sarcasm, and felt 
for the moment as if she hated him for life; but his next cheery 
smile would put her heart back into the right place, and all felt for 
him the highest veneration of which their careless natures were ca- 
pable. 

Let us glance at his pupils. 

Nearest to the professor sits Katchen Eggers. She looks very 
pretty as we see her now, leaning intently over her book, both little 
hands supporting her head, with its weight of golden hair, her red 
lips pursed up desperately, whilst her eager eyes run over the syn- 
tactical rules which she will have to repeat to the professor. Her 
simple, spotless cambric dress, her neat collar and pink ribbon, her 
smooth hair, no less than retired manner, mark her from the others. 

Opposite to her sits bold, black-eyed JMiss Aggie, quite capable of 
writing the best German, English, or French essay of any girl in the 
school, but quite incapable of concentrating her attention upon any 
subject for the space of ten minutes. She knows that Professor Beer 
will whip her with some reproof, but she is too full of fun and too 
reckless to avoid it. 

German girls remain children till they leave school — often till they 
marry, and you would look in vain among Professor Beer’s grown- 
up pupils for one young lady possessing the quiet self reliance often 
/ seen in our girls of twelve, ^^loreovei, you would find a biuntness 
of feeling, added to an outward roughness of manner, which are 
only found among the commonest English schools. Kindness of 
heart, quickness, application, are universal; delicacy of mind and 
gentleness of manner are rare. Professor Beer’s elder pupils were 
for the most part rough -looking girls of sixteen or seventeen, with 
untidy hair, exceptionable hands, common features, careless dress, 
many wearing childish print frocks aud long pinafores. Olive- 


DOCTOH JACOB. 61 

skinned, black-eyed Jewesses formed no small proportion of the 
class. 

At the lower end of the room sat Hannchen, that young lady hav- 
ing sat there many and many a time, in the hope of creating an Im- 
pression favorable to herself. 

“ Do let me hear Professor Beer’s lessons in literature!” she 
would say coaxingly to her aunt; “ they are so improving.” Con- 
sequently, the master had always for his ms<i vis Plannchen’s 
sprightly figure and bonny face. She always took off her apron at 
such times, showed her pretty teeth, scented her hair, displayed her 
plump white arms — in short, made every attempt upon the well-for- 
tified heart of the professor. 

And now his step is fieard on the fiag-stOnes, the girls shut their 
books, and hide their lunch-baskets under the table: Hannchen 
smiles and blushes as she turns to the quickly-opened door, and the 
professor enters. 

fie is a man of little ceremony, and with merely a bow to all, 
takes his place. First he glances over the list of attendant pupils 
placed before him, then selects the best-sharpened pencil from the 
case at his side, and without a word opens the copy booR of Katchen 
Eggcrs. Professor Beer taught after his own method; he never al- 
lowed a lesson to be merely a lesson in itself; he dovetailed one into 
the otner, thus leading his pupils, partly by rules given, more by 
suggestion, from the beginning to the end of a subject. He did not 
teach, he caused them to teacli themselves; he did not put the ore 
into their hands, he merely guided them within reach of the mine. 
During his lesson, every girl felt that her mind was being probed, 
searched into, made responsible, exercised. Only bad teachers allow 
their pupils to be passive. 

He proceeded through Katchen ’s composition, sentence by sen- 
tence, holding up every fault to the judgment of all, but selecting 
one pupil only to amend it. If she answered wrongly, those who 
could correct her held up one hand; awaiting the master’s permis- 
sion to speak out. Once or twice Katchen made this signal, and 
the professor could not have failed to notice that delicate little hand 
among so many red and coarse ones. Perhaps lie noticed the pretti- 
ness of her dress also, and ihe grace with which her golden hair was 
braided round her small head, ('lerlainly the orphan girl gained 
more than one smile from him, and no stinging satire dining tlie 
lesson; but we ought, in duty to Piofessor Beer, to attribute this 
gentleness to Katchen's attentiveness and docility. The girls all 
drew a long breath when the composition was brought to an end, and 
the reading began. He read poetry well, hiding a natural hardness 
of voice by artistic skill and careful modulation. 

To-day he read ” King Sigurd’s iiridal Journey,” of Geibcl, pref- 
acing it by a few remarks upon the living poets of Germany. When 
he came to the description of Alfsonnc, or the son of Alt, how — 

“ She stood iu sweetest girlhood time, her ros^ fe.atures glowed 
Like the first blush of the morning, and her golden tresses flowed,” 

his eyes rested on Katchen, and he thought that the poet might well 
have taken her for his ideal. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


62 

As soon as the lesson was over, and the professor rose to go, Kat- 
chen rose also, saying, timidly— ^ „ 

“ 1 must say goodmy to 3 '’Ou to-day, Herr Professor, since 1 shall 
receive no more lessons." 

“ ISo more lessons, Katchen?" 

“ No, Herr Professor. 1 am already eighteen, and Mrs. Brill 
thinks that it is time for me to give up my studies. 1 am sorry, and 
1 thank you warmly tor your kindness and patience." 

She held out her hand to him wilh a shy blush that spoke her 
gratitude better than words could have done. Feeling hot and yel- 
low beneath the quizzical e 3 ^es of Hannchen and nineteen pert girls, 
the poor professor dared not do more than press the little fingers 
momentarily, and reply — 

" X am very sorry also, Katchen, and for my part t.bank you for 
3 'our unvarying attention. Accept 013 ^ best wishes for 3 mur happi- 
ness, and remember that you have alwa 3 ^s a sincere friend in Felix 
Beer. Farewell, my child!" 

" Won’t you bid me good-by, too?" said saucy Aggie, all smiles 
and delight that the days of her thralldom were over. " 1 know that 
1 have been a sad trouble to you, Herr Professor, but I couldn’t help 
it. Pray for give me ! ’ ’ 

He shook hands with her, smiling somewhat gravely, and, with 
his usual bow, left the room, chafing inwardly at Mrs. Brill’s de- 
cision, and wondering whether he should ever see Katchen again. 
FrankfDi't was not so very large; surel 3 '' they should meet by chance 
now and then. 

For that day and the next Professor Beer’s shoes pinched him, 
pupils irritated him, dinners disgusted him. He had not the least 
idea that Katchen ’s blue eyes and rare golden hair could have any- 
thing to do with the matter; but he accepted his small crosses as tlie 
daily portion of mortal men, keeping alike the contemplation and 
discomfort to himself. 

CHAPTER XVIL 

Dr. Jacob did not sleep well that night, and rose wdth a deter- 
mination to take an immediate step toward removing his suspense of 
mind. He maintained the maxim of the Roman poet, " Carpe dwm, 
quam minimum credulaposieris;" chafing at any evil which prevent- 
ed him from enjoying the day’s pleasures, simple or extraordinary; 
hating alike anxiety, pain, and unhappiness in any shape. 

Leaving the hotel after breakfast, and turning down the Tonges 
Gasse, he soon found himself amid those narrow pictuiesque streets 
which yet remain of the mediaeval town of Frankfort. Gloom 3 q yet 
grand old houses, resembling gigantic cabinets of stained oak, are on 
either hand, and with their gables jutting overhead, preclude every 
ray of sun. Irregular, bell-shapea roots, with tiny dormers here 
and there, quaintly carved balcony and balustrade, panel and porch, 
complete the old-world look of the place. But in the market-place 
is found the finest picture of old German architecture in its domestic 
form. There you are surrounded by quaint fancies of the Middle 
Ages. To the right and to the left are the homes of those burghers 
who elected Charles IV.— whose apprentices dined oft the ox roasted 


DOCT.OTI JACOB. 


G3 


that day in sight of the Election Chamber— whose daughters hid be- 
hind the deep oriels, and listened to favored swains serenading in the 
dark. 

It is not till you are inside the Romer, or town-hall, that you per- 
ceive its great claim on your interest, and Dr, Jacob passed into the 
inner court without pausing. But here he stood still to admire the 
fantastic designs in glossy, time-worn oak, on every side. Having 
ascended the staircase, he looked from the balcony over the old 
Romerberg or market-place, the grotesque houses around it, and the 
narrow darkened streets beyond, with a feeling of antiquarian en- 
thusiasm. He had not come, however, to muse over imperial history 
in the Kaisersaal, or to pay a couple of florins for the sight of I he 
golden ball, or to admire Steinle’s flaming Judgment of Solomon. 
After inquiring of an official for the location of the representative 
police authority, he was ushered into a small room, the doors of 
which were surrounded by servant girls. 

The police officer was a very plump man, v/ith that air of con- 
scious superiority that plumpness and absence of mustache or beard 
carry with them; and with eyes impressing you that they were ex- 
amining, and would continue to examine you, and would, after such 
examination, form an opinion ot you, with no regard whatever^ to 
your private feeling. He received his visitor courteously, though 
with some excitement of manner. 

“ Sit down, mein Herr. So Lina Schmolz has left your service? 
I feared as much. 1 trembled in my bed for fearing as much, mein 
Herr. 1 assure you, that terrible young woman has caused me more 
anxiety than my whole responsible office, my sick mother, my wife 
and five children, the youngest of whom is a cripple.” 

‘‘ Pardon me, but 1 do not quite understand you,” said Dr. Jacob, 
with a smile. 

‘‘ A thousand apologies from my inmost heart, mein Herr — if it is 
not Lina Schmolz, who then? 1 remember no female servant in 
English families likely to have misconducted herself.” 

” May I ask what department of police administration you repre- 
sent?” asked Dr. Jacob, again smiling. 

‘‘ It is my office to keep the books of all the cooks, nurses, and 
housemaids in Frankfort,” said the officer, wiping his brow as if it 
ought to perspiie; ‘‘and no slight work it is. Only think, mein 
Herr, there are several thousands of maid-servants in this city, and 
1 have to hold the character ot each in my keeping; without show- 
ing their book they cannot be hired; or, it hired, are liable to a tine. 
If a maid loses her place because she is saucy, the* book says so; if 
she is light-fingered, the book says so— in fact, like Cain, the mark 
of her misdeeds follows her wherever she goes.” 

‘‘ This Is quite a new state of things to me,” replied Dr. Jacob; 
‘‘ but 1 will not detain you even to'obtain further particulars. I 
will simply prefer the question which led me here. 1 am anxious to 
institute a private inquiry through the means of your authonty— to 
whom can 1 direct myself?” 

The Germans are not business-like people; they like to dilute a 
homoeopathic dose of it in a large amount of small talk, trifling, 
smoking, beer, pro re naid. Taken neat, it is physic to them. 
Consequently the police-director made a long preamble, beginning 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


64 

with his friend the Herr Direktor So-and-so, and ending with the 
grand shooting festival to be soon celebrated, before lie returned to 
Dr. Jacob’s question, which he finally declared to be out ot his prov- 

“ If vou will not object, however, to wait a tew minutes, whilst 
1 enter "the information of these young women in my books, 1 will 
summon my colleague, Herr Heine, a man of excellent understand- 
ing and great experience, and hear his opinion,” 

Whilst the police-director wrote down verbatim statements regard- 
ing the dismissals, mistresses, wages, and otlenses of the damsels 
around him. Dr. Jacob was well amused by turning over the dingy 
leaves of a dha racier -hook lying on the table. 

There he read how a certain Babel e Meyer had been born in 
Hochsi, on the second day of Janumy, 1830; how shghad been bap- 
tized on the fourteenth day after; vaccinated indue time; confirmed 
as occasion served, entered service at Frau So and so’s on such and 
such a day; had received dismissal because she broke a pitcher at 
the well; had afterward gone to* Frau Professor Ilaugh’s, with 
whom she stayed two years, and so ad irifinitum. An addendum 
read no less funnily— 

” The said Babele Meyer is five feet one inch in height; has flaxen 
hair, and a mole over the left eyebrow; is inclined to be skinny, and 
has freckles.” 

By the time Dr. Jacob had got to the end of Babele’s story, the 
officer had the honor to be at his service, went through a second 
preamble, with equally remote bearing on the subject, and then sent 
for his friend. 

The second police officer was exceedingly tall and thin, and 
seemed to look down upon mankind generally from the heights of 
soTue secret inquisitorial po\ver only known to himself. It was im- 
possible to meet his eyes without feeling that they convicted you ot 
some crime; their vei}’' glance made you guilty in your own mind, 
and you would go away from his presence with an uneasy idea that 
3 'oii were a kind of Uoppelgdnger, and had, in your second being, 
committed all kinds of wickednesses. His bearing was that of u 
gentleman accustomed to polished socieD’’, and his fine graceful fig- 
ure looked well in the simple, soldier-like uniform of black cloth, 
ribbed \yilli white, and decoratai with stars, belt, and sw'ord. 

” Oblige me by stating, first, your name, occupation, and address, 
sir,” he said, in unexceptionable English; “ then your wishes ” 

” It is simply a matter of inquiry,” Dr. Jacob said, handing the 
officer his card. 1 am anxious to discover the abode of — of — a 
lady, whom 1 believe to be in Frankfort, and who, from private 
reasons, has been some time estranged from her friends. As 1 leave 
shortly tor the East, 1 should wish to exert every effort during the 
next fortnight.” 

” The lady is English?” a 

“Tes.” 

“ Have you any idea of the probable Hme she may have been here. 
The passport system has been so altered lately, that all strangers 
arriving within the last three mouths have not required them. "Be- 
fore that period, passports of loreigners residing in Frankfort for a 
shorter or longer time wt ie surrendered to us.” 


DOCTOll JACOB. 


65 


“ Certainly within two yeais,” Dr. .Jacob answered; “ but except 
by giving the lady’s name, age, and probable occupation, 1 cannot 
help you further.” 

” Will you kindly write down tliese particulars?” continued the 
officer. ” 1 can at least go through the passports of this and the 
foregoing twelvemonths.” 

Dr. Jacob took out a superb gold pencil-case and wrote the fol- 
lowing: 

Elk nbeth Jacob. Aged iliirty-iive. An Englkh lady, and ac- 
complished — most probably she would be engaged as goterness or com- 
panion.^' 

” The lady is related to you?” asKed the officer, sharply. 

” Yes — she is related to me.” 

” Excuse me it my question appears impertinent. In our profes- 
sion we are obliged to probe a thing, and view it in all its circum- 
stantial relations. You wish to find this lady. 1 wish to assist you 
— what passes between us is confidential.” 

” 1 hope so,” said Dr. Jacob, gravely; ” otherwise I might have 
resorted to advertising in the daily papers, but the publiciiy would 
be most painful to me. Your medial ion, 1 trust to find silent and 
speedy.” 

” Of course,” answered the oflicer, musingly, and his eyes rested 
on Dr. Jacob with the evident intention of Knowing him in all his 
circumstantial relations. 

‘‘ Can 1 give you any further information?” asked the clergyman, 
rising. 

‘‘ Thank you — for the present, no. You shall hear from me in a 
few days.” 

Whereupon Dr. Jacob bowed himself out. He did not go straight 
to Milani’s, but made a varietj^' of purchases on the way; now stop- 
pimr at a perfumer’s (fc»r he was a Sybarite in his dressing-room) to 
choose scents, shaving-soaps, and kid gloves; now looking in at 

’^xirt’s wonderful toyshop, tor l 03 ’'s to please his little pets; imw 
ioiinging on JUgel’s counter over the newest editions of Tauchnitz, 
now selecting a pretty reticule or blottiug-book for some lady friend 
whose name-day was near. 

On returning to his hotel he met the baroness with her children, 
just returned from a drive. She gave him her hand cordially, and 
did not take it away at once. 

You dine no more at the Jiotel, because you wish, to avoid me?” 
she said, in a low voice, adding, half defiantly, “or because you 
fear me?” 

“To disprove both assertions, 1 will dine there this afternoon,” 
he replied. 

“ But you must tell the waiter to save a chair for ^mu in our prox- 
imity.” 

“And why not?” 

lie had accompanied her to the door of her room, and with a gest- 
ure she invited him in; the children ran to their governess, leaving 
the baroness alone with her visitor. 

“ If 1 could make you believe that I was asking you from any 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


66 

other motive than the mere pleasure of your society, 1 would ask 
you to speak with me for five minutes. 1 have something to say^ 
regarding that anonymous letter, and the writer of it. After what 
took place yesterday, you know me too well to suppose that my 
pride would stoop for any other end than that of mediation between 
you two.” 

“Perhaps you had better not try to mediate,” he answered, 
coldly, and witliout looking at her; “ such a position must, 1 think, 
hurt the interest and comfort of us all.” 

“ Perhaps; but at least you will hear what 1 have to say?” 

“ 1 would not hurt your feelings for the world,” Dr. Jacob an- 
swered in the same voice; “ say anything and everything you like, 
without the slightest fear of your words receiving an unjust judg- 
ment at my hands. Ko one knows the generosity of your impulses 
belter than myself.” 

“ And no one has so cruelly crushed them. After all that 1 have 
suffered through j^ou, 1 wonder at myself for being capable of en- 
during your presence.” 

He looked at her now with a softened expression, and beneath 
that look, the ice of her mood melted or seemed to melt; she clasped 
her hands over her eyes, and trembled violently. The sight of her 
agitation moved him, but he appeared to struggle against his feel- 
ings, and walked to and fro in silent conflict. At length he said, 
with a kind of stern tenderness — 

“Would to God that 1 had never crossed your path, my poor 
child. As it is, 1 am unable to repair any harm 1 have done you — 
save by isolating myself, which 1 have done and which 1 intend to 
do. 1 think of you often, Ther^se, and never without regret. Can 
I do more? 

“And 1 also am anxious to make reparation,” she said quickly 
and nervously; “ you shall see that 1 can still be as generous as you 
believe me to have been hitherto. 1 am determined to use all the 
means in my power toward effecting a meeting and reconciliation be- 
tween yourself and Elizabeth. Could 1 do anything more devoted 
to you, or humbling to myself?” 

“ What chance have you of finding her?” he asked, with eager- 
ness. 

She was stung by his utter oblivion to the self-denial implied in 
her words, and only saved herself from a return of angry passion 
by a great effort. 

“ You men are always so calculating and egotistical! Nothing 
but the probability of promoting your own interest has power to 
awaken you from your lethargy.” 

“ The matter in question seems to me a positive duty.” 

“ Pick arid choose words as you like, the fact is palpable, and be- 
speaks the innate selfishness of a man’s nature; but 1 will not waste 
my strength in battling against it. 1 will cany out my intention, 
and leave you— leave you for ever, if you like. Y"ou ask me what 
chance 1 have of success. 1 believe 1 am on the right track. 1 be- 
lieve that an/ day or hour may bring me face to face with her.” 

“ How so?” asked Dr. Jacob. 

“ That does not matter. In case of either success or failure you 
shall know all; but you cannot quarrel with me for lueping so. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


67 


harmless a secret. Ami now a difficulty has occurred to my mind, 
W ill she hear me? Will she speak to me?” 

” If 1 do not mistake her character — no.” 

“ Upon this matter 1 agree with you. Then again — suppose we 
meet by chance, in the streets- -in a shop — anywhere — as is likely 
enough, since 1 frequent all the favorite resorts of the English, what 
guarantee could 1 give that your arms were opened to receive her?” 

” Tell her ot my proposed mission to the East, and of my yearn- 
ing to see her before 1 go.” 

"Is it not almost certain that she will disbelieve anything and 
«very thing I say?” 

‘‘ True — such an obstacle had not occun*ed to me.” 

“ But,” said the baroness, hesitatingly, “ a written word or two 
of assurance would carry the force of truth with them. Speak your 
sentiments of affection and forgiveness, and coming from my lips, 
they would lose their conviction; write the same, and she can no 
longer doubt.” 

” Remember the strange import that your mediation would give 
either to a letter or message, or any token whatever,” Dr. Jacob 
said, also with hesitation. 

” Will you not trust me?” 

Her voice had a hurt, humbled expression, that carried more 
weight with it than the most direct and passionate appeal could have 
done. He considered a little, and replied, earnestly — 

“ I will trust you, Ther^se.” 


CHAPTER XVHl. 

Before Lischen dished up the dinner, Frauleiu Fink might be 
seen under the fruit-trees, picking up windfalls which she would 
afterward divide into several portions. These were intended for the 
tour o'clock meal ot the governesses and pupils, and with a Brod- 
chen, or little roll, lay on the sideboard in their sight, conveying a 
delicate hint ot future feasts. At twelve, the gong brought every 
member ot the institution to the refectory, and then Frauleiu Fink, 
with upraised eyes and clasped hands, said the following grace: 

“ Komm, Herr Jesu, sei unser Gast, 

Und segue was Du bescheeret hast.” 

There was something very subtle in the way that the schoolmis- 
tress contrived to throw a charm and gracefulness over her simple 
table. Nothing could have been less pretending than the sorrel soup, 
or the second course ot stew^ed vegetables, or the third, and last, of 
boiled beef and salad; yet she helped these dishes with such a look 
of pride, and ate them with such an epicurean relish, that in spite of 
'prima facie predispositions to the contrary, you fell into the same 
mood, and could have sworn you had fared sumptuously at kings’ 
tables. 

Schoolmistresses are, or were, supposed to have a personal inter- 
est in the natural appetite of their pupils, to take great care lest their 
morbid craving for food be too much fostered, etc. But Frauleiu 
Fink enjoyed her dinner, and liked others to enjoy it too. She 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


68 

lielped her dish of snipped carrot and thick sauce, and cut up her 
peculiarly unprepossessing piece of beet, boiled down to the taste- 
lessness of brown paper, with the smile that an epicure might wear 
when carving the first woodcock or venison of the season; and she 
pressed her governess to eat as hospitably and winningly as if she 
were entertaining friends at a dinner-party. Then, whilst the first 
course tvas changed for the second, she would make use of the op- 
portunity to let her young friends hear good conversation, would 
discourse on passing events, or the poets she adored, in the most 
elaborate style. 

The meal over, she would cut oft a regal portion of meat for the 
servants and retire, leaving Hannchen to lock up the remainder, 
and wash up the spoons. 

On the day of which we speak, as Fraulein Fink was crossing 
the courtyard, to her own rooms after dinner, Lischen met her with 
a card in her hand. 

'■ A lady, beautifully dressed, and having a splendid carriage at 
the door, requested to see the English governess,” she said, breath- 
lessly; “ never had a lady so grand come to the house in her time.”' 

Fraulein Fink held one hand over her eyes to keep oft the blind- 
ing sun, and with the other raised the card within reading distance. 
It was delicately bordered, and bore the name: 

“MADAME LA BAROKNE DE LADENBURG.” 

Doubtless some former employer of Miss Macartney’s, thought 
the fraulein— these English were astonishingly respected — never 
had a baroness called on any governess in her institution before — it 
looked creditable both for her house and emphyees, and she returned 
to the refectory with a beaming face. 

“Dear Miss Macartney, 1 congratulate you on jmur well-born 
connections. See, who is come to see you— if you will introduce 
me, I shall feel honored.” 

M ss Macartney looked at the card with a blank face, though she 
could not conceal a tremor. 

“ 1 cannot see her,” she cried, almost fiercely. 

“ My dear Miss Macartney, your dress is adapted for the school- 
room, and your hair is nicely arranged, as it always is.. Never mind 
your morning toilet — do not turn away a baroness.” 

The governess looked up, and a smile curled her angry lips. 
There was something so exquisitely humorous in Fraulein Fink’.s 
constructions and conclusions, that had she been on her death bed 
«he must have smiled to hear them. The sndle over, herAiostril& 
dilated, and tier cheek flushed. 

“ Perhaps you are right, fraulein — it would be a pity to turn 
away a baroness — especially a Baroness Ladenbure:.” 

And with a proudly-held head, and still flushed cheeks, she 
crossed the courtyard, ascended the front stairs, and entered the 
drawing-room. 

The two women formed a striking contrast. Miss Macartney was 
taller by the head than the baroness, and carried her height ^’rith 
that proud and defiant air which handsome women assume when 
they scorn vanity. She was moreover, perfectly simple, and sim- 
plicity adds wondrous dignity to such a stamp of beaut}^ as hers. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


69 


Her hair was brushed, not wilhout care, from her clear brow and 
knotted behind, leaving the well shaped and well-poised head io 
lull relief; her fine features bore unmistakable witness to an easily 
stirred, wild, sincere nature; and her dress, though of the plainest 
kind, might have been worn by any lady of the land. 

The baroness was pretty, and essentially a woman of fashion. 
The rustle of her sweeping skirts, the perfume of her lace handker- 
chief and pale gloves, the languishing indolence of her deportment, 
and the unalterable propriety of her set smile, would have created a 
g-reater impression anywhere than by the side of Miss Macartney. 
What constituted her real charm in society was lost in Fraule'in 
Fink’s modest diawing room. Perhaps she* felt conscious of being 
at a disadvantage, for her reception of the governess was almost 
embarrassed, 

“ 1 thought you would have refused to see me,” she said, with 
apparent surprise, ” but it. is wise and rejisonable of you to be 
friendly. Of course 1 should not know of your location without 
having sought it.” 

” Why are you here?” asked Miss MaGarlne.y, coidl}'" and natu- 
rally; “you surely have good reasons for taking such a step.” 

” The best reasons. 1 come to tell you many things, and to hear 
of some from your own lips. Are you happy?” 

” Am I happy, Baroness Ladenburg? Ask your own heart that.’^ 

“Are you comfortable here? have you enough to eat and to 
drink? are the people kind to you? is there anything of which you 
stand in need?” 

“ By what right, and to what purpose do you cross-question me 
thus? Suiely you minst know that if I wanted bread, you would be 
the last person of whom 1 should receive a kreutzer. 1 beg of you 
to state your errand with the least possible reference to my present 
condition,” 

“ Wiiicli is bad enough, 1 fear, though you are too proud to own 
it,” added the baroness, in the same light tone; “ and now listen — 
Dr, Jacob is in Frankfort.” 

“ I know it.” 

The baroness glanced at her suspiciously. 

“ Yet you have not sought him?” * 

“ To what end should 1 seek him, madanie? and he has not 
sought me!” 

“True— true,” she replied, as if recollecting herself; “but for 
any possible reconciliation between you two the time is now or 
never. Unless you see him before he sets out for the East, the 
chances are a thousand to one that you parted at Ischl for ever.” 

“ For ever?” said Miss Macartney, in a hard voice. 

“ Yes. Dr. Jacob is bound, as you have most probably heard, to 
the East, having no definite intention of returning. At his age, and 
with the contingencies of tiavel and climate considered, his return 
to Europe is hardly a thing to be expected.” 

Miss Macartney buried her face in her hands, and did not speak. 
She forgot for a moment the hated presence of the baroness; she 
onlv remembered the one natural tie of her life, and trembled at con- 
templating a future without hop^. 

Then the baroness added, in honey -sweet tones : 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


70 

“ It remains with you to obtain from him the restomtion of all 
your claims; home, protection, love, all await you. Elizabeth his 
noble heart is yearnins; toward you; his rest is broken for thinking 
of you at night -he seeks for distraction from his grief, in this ard- 
uous undertaking. Think of his silvered hairs, and relent.” 

“Oh! be moved to pity by my position,” cried Miss Macartney, 
in a passion of suspense; “ and give me the truth. For Heaven’s 
sake, tell me that you have not been sent from him to me.” 

“ And why noti Is not the message a welcome one?” 

With tears of scorn on her cheeks. Miss Macartney turned from 
her visitor. 

“ But to make you the messenger. He who was once loyal and 
tender-hearted could hardly have sunk so low. 1 do not believe 
jou, Baroness Ladenburg. Go — go, lest 1 insult you further.” 

“1 will not leave you till 1 have told all the truth,” said the 
baroness, with hidden triumph shining in her eyes. “ Dr. Jacob 
opens his arms to you— but on conditions. You must ignore all real 
or fancied injuries done to you. You must not expect him for your 
sake to relinquish much that has brightened his life since you two 
parted.” 

Miss Macartney’s eyes flamed. 

“ He never made those conditions, madame. , He could not.” 

“ We will see whose case is strongest, yours or mine,” she con- 
tinued; “ you accuse me of slandering Dr. Jacob’s character — let 
his own hand- writing convince you that 1 say nothing for which X 
am not amply supported by him. Read this letter from him to me, 
and form your own conclusions.” 

She placed in Miss Macartney’s trembling hands the lines Dr. 
Jacob had written the day before for a very diflerent purpose. 

“ Dearest Elizabeth,” he had said, “ forget all that has happened 
and come to me, for once and for all. IN ever was 1 iiiore your own 
than now, when your affection and companionship could make my 
declining years happier and better than any of my life. Forgive me 
as 1 forgive you, and let us, at any sacrifice, love each other, and 
live for each olher (^ly. God bless you! 

“ Stephek Jacob. ” 

“ Well,” said the baroness, without the slightest change of coun- 
tenance, “ to what conclusion does the reading of this letter bring 
you?” 

It she expected a triumph, Miss Macartney was determined not to 
give her one. However much she suffered inwardly — and she did 
suffer agonies— there were no visible traces of tliem. She answered, 
with stinging bitterness, 

“ 1 have come to this conclusion. Baroness Ladenburg. The wom- 
an who could use such a letter for such a purpose, must be not only 
heartless, but without conscience, without, in short, those feelings 
which make her fit to touch an infant with her hands. Do you 
want to hear more?— listen, then. 1 do not believe that the worst 
woman in this city could have acted so basely; and if by any chance 
1 ever touch you with (he tips of my fingers, I wdll run to the nearest 
fountain and wash off the staih. And, now, adieu!” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


71 

In less than a minute Miss Macartney had rushed down-stairs, 
crossed the court-yard, and locked herself in her bedroom, leaving- 
the baroness more discomposed than she had ever felt in her life. 
M. du Chaillii tells us how King Rumpo Chunibo and his followers 
said grace to their barbarous gods after a cannibal dinner. The 
same thing is often done in this civilized society of ours. For in- 
stance, Baroness Ladenburg, having done her best to poison by her 
Tuse some of the closest, holiest, domestic ties, merely for vain and 
selfish purposes, returned home to say an ora pro nobis before the 
crucifix in her bedroom. She was a devout Romanist, and never 
allowed worldly affairs to interfere with her devotions. 

Miss Macartney prayed also, but in a different mood. Broken,, 
despairing, in tears, she could only raise her hands to Heaven, and 
repeat the plaintive words of a plaintive mourner of old — 

“ Give us help from trouble, for vain is the help of man.” 

She had no longer any hope. A gulf reaching to eternity now 
stretched between her life and that of him for whom she would have- 
died. 

What was death in comparison to an utter estrangement resulting'^ 
from moral degradation? And as she thought of what he had been 
once, and to what he must have changed since, she forgot her own 
unhappiness, and prayed for him only. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Two or three days after the events recounted in the last chapter^. 
Louis Paulus was sent by his father with letters to the post office, 
and there met Dr. .lacob. 

“ My dear boy, how glad 1 am to meet you, just as 1 am starting 
for the gay P''esthalle, now preparing for the shooting festival. Yon 
must go with me.” 

Poor Louis shook his head wistfully. 

” Doctor Jacob, 1 dare not, much as 1 should like it. Papa ex- 
pects me home at once.” 

“ 1 will make it right with papa; do you think he would be angry 
with me for giving you a litlle pleasure, Louis?” 

“Oh! no; but papa is particular on some points, especially as to 
our remaining out unexpectedly.” 

“ And rightly, if alone; but with me, he could and would have no 
objection. Can you not trust to my judgment in the matter, 
Louis?” 

The prospect was so enticing, and Louis was so impressible, that 
he allowed himself to be convinced, and jumped into the fiacre. The 
driver cracked his wdiip, and, for every one at that time w\as bound 
to the same spot, without a word, turned his horses’ heads toward 
the Friedburger Gate. 

It was the seventh of July, 1862, a day ever to be remembered in 
Frankfort annals, for its morning sunshine and evening tragedy. 

To Louis Paulus, the great German Union Shooting Festival was, 
at present, as much of a mystery as it is to many of my readers. He- 
knew that a Festhalle, or Pleasure Palace, had grown up like 
Aladdin’s Palace outside the city; that every spare bed was being 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


ri 

put in readiness fcr the six thousand free shooters who were to he 
quartered on the willing townsfolk; that a procession, almost un- 
< 3 qualed in inagniticence in past Frankfort historj^ was to inaugurate 
the week’s shooting; that fireworks, theatricals, danciug, concerts, 
banquets, and toasts, were to fill up the eight days’ festive calendar; 
that every house was to glow with the black, red, and gold banners 
of the empire, that every one was to keep holiday, and spend it in 
the Festhalle; finally, that the Frank forters were mad, and would 
remain so till their glittering patriotic pageant was over. 

But Dr. Paulus did not think pleasure-seeking a necessary part of 
-education: and, consequently, he had not yet taken a family ticket 
for the daily festivities at the Festhalle. Thackeray speaks of the 
delight of witnessing children’s laces at a pantomime; and Dr. 
Jacob experienced something of this feeling in watching the enthu- 
siasm of Louis. Reflected pleasure, like reflected light, is freest 
from blemish; though Dr. Jacob had gazed upon far more imposing 
and beautiful sights than the pretty pavilion-like Festhalle a-glow 
with festoons, flags, and ladies’ silks — this, seen through Louis’ large 
eyes of admiration, pleased him most. 

At the triumphal archway, where all fiacres were compelled to halt, 
they encounter the baroness, accompanied by her husband. Count 
Josef, and some friends. Dr. Jacob would rather have met any one 
else just then; but it was his habit to take all surprises with a smile, 
and consequently his greeting wanted no wonted cordiality. Charm- 
ing as the baroness ever proved herself to him, handsome as she un- 
deniably was in the eyes of all, generous as her own acts seemed to 
show, he could but feel a secret distrust of her, a lurking dissatis- 
faction even when most fascinated. Had circumstances aided his 
resolution, he would never have sought or consented to further in- 
tercourse with her; but a web of chances (for in spite of Schiller’s 
assertion, “ There is no chance," we see such webs dragging victims 
to their doom daily) drew him into the charmed circle, and he saw 
and conversed with her constantly. To-day he had not sought her, 
neither had she sought him — yet they were again together. 

“ What news do you bring me?” were the first words of the 
baroness. 

‘‘ None-— and yourself?” 

‘‘ If you lead me out of this crowd into the open air, 1 will tell 
you everything; but this child has ears.” 

” Not "for French,” answered Dr. Jacob, impatiently; “ indeed, 1 
doubt whether he has ears for anything now, since his eyes have so 
much to do.” 

He gave her his arm, -and by means of his high stature, soon* 
pu.shed a way through the thronged naves of the Festhalle. Plardly 
had he reached the curtains of black, red, and gold, which formed 
the only front wall of the airy edifice, when he reiterated, 

” And yourself. Baroness Ladenburg?” 

” Do not be sanguine— 1 have nothing favorable to communicate 
to jmu, since my mediation has been utterly fruitless, as you 
feared.” 

” And as 1 expected; but, give me details — you have seen her?” 

” Was 1 not determined to see her?” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 73 

“ Your energj^ makes me envious. At least tell me how you 
achieved so speedy a success!” 

The baroness stooped to arrange a flounce, and Dr. Jacob saw 
that she colored slightly; she answered, however, witljout embar- 
rassment. 

” By pure chance 1 met her in the promenade, and at once named 
you and youv wishes regarding her; but 1 might as well have 
spoken to these stones. Dear Doctor Jacob, do not grieve lor the loss 
ot so proud, so cold, so unforgiving a heart.” 

” She has been injured beyond the limits of wmmanly patience — 
remember that,” said Dr. Jacob, sadly; ‘‘whatever you say, do 
not condemn her in the face of so many palliative circumstances.” 

‘‘ Have you also had nothing to complain of? No— I cannot and 
will not absolve her. She, for once and for all, discards jmu; she 
will never see you, much less speak to you again; she shuts her heart 
entirely against all reparation on your ‘part, and forgiveness on lier 
own. Is this a noble way of acting*!* AYould a loving woman 
treat you so?” 

Dr. Jacob had turned a shade paler as he listened; his proud head 
now drooped a little; his ^oiee answered mechanically. 

“ Be it so. God knows 1 have sinned toward her, and 1 must bear 
my punishment. 1 would rather not hear her judged by you,. 
Therdse — 1 would rather let her name rest undisturbed by my re- 
proaches or your opinions. We have each acted as perhaps w^e 
were greatly tempted to do, and it is too late to atone for the evil 
effects ot our actions now.” 

They soon reached the limits ot the Fest Platz, or grounds belong- 
ing to the palace, and amused themselves by looking around. What 
a month ago had been only an arid common, was now a busy little 
colony, filled with every necessary building for the comfort or 
amusunent of man, A police-station, a fire-office, a reading-room, 
dancing saloons, fountains, baths, smithies, bazaars, kitchens, 
slaughterhouses, etc., etc., etc. Looking from the shooting-gal- 
leries, the scene was quite fairy-like. The green pavilion, stretching 
across a space of four hundred feel, and blooming with flags, fes- 
toons, and colored windows, the pretty gothic Prize Temple, on the 
pinnacle of which stood a colossal Germania, from whose hands 
streamed the national banner; the music, the gayl 3 ^-dressed crowds, 
the throngs ot carriages outside the charmed circle, the multifarious 
new phases of life and character which a national movement is sure 
to call into play -no -wonder that Louis’ brain whirled, and his 
pulses beat fast with pleasure. 

By-and-by, the firing of a gun called all the willing to the ban- 
quet. Louis forgot the flight of time, forsrot his father’s impending- 
wrath, and his mother’s anxiety, as he followx'd Dr. Jacob and the 
baroness into the Festhalle. What with the astounding masses ot 
people, the gorgeousness of the windows and picture galleries, the 
glare of banners, the strains ot the band, and the clattering ot plates, 
the poor boy almost lost self-consciousness. Then it was so novel 
and so delightful to dine at a table d'hote, to be served by waiters 
wearing red and wMiite caps, and taste of many dishes, each brought 
to table to the sound ot a horn; and lastly, to see glasses drained, 
and hear long speeches about German Unioir, and German Freedom, 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


^4 

Patherland, future grandeur, combined nationalities, patriotic crises, 
Frankfort made the seat of a new parliament, etc. 

Count Josef ate his dinner, and paid compliments to the cook with 
certain ungentlemanly reservations. He complained of the canaille 
— this sort of patriotism was gaining strength and increasing— swore 
at the ebullitions of indignation against one or two small principali- 
ties and powers, satirized the enthusiasm of everybody, and the 
Frankforters in general, finally declared bis intention of starling for 
the Bergstrasse in a few days. 

“ Can’t you persuade your friends, the Brills, to go there?” he 
half whispered into Dr. Jacob’s ear. ”1 speak au serienx when I 
say that those two little girls are the prettiest I have seen since leav- 
ing Vienna.” 

” What two little girls?” asked Dr. Jacob, sharply. 

“ Miss Aggie, the black eyed, and Katchen, the blonde. My dear 
doctor, don"’rtremble lest 1 am about to tease j^ou on their account, 
for 1 have already obtained an introduction to the Herr papa. 1 
only ask you for the sake of old friendship to persuade him that his 
daughter and jille tidoptice require change of air. The Bergstrasse 
without a flirtation, must be as insipid as a roast goose without 
chestnuts.” 

” If you intend to flirt with Ag^ie and Katchen, 1 shall do my 
best to keep Mr Brill and his family at home. Seriously, Count 
Josef, 1 do not like you to adopt that light strain when speaking of 
unsophist icated young girls. ’ ’ 

Count Josef made an irresistibly droll raoxie of concern. 

” Allons ! What a fool 1 am when 1 begin to be confidential! So 
long as the young ladies are not your daughters. Dr. Jacob, 1 
thought 1 was at liberty to flirt with them to my heart’s content.” 

By this time smoking, effete speeches among knots of students, 
and a strong perfume of beer, made the crowded banquet-hall tar 
from pleasant; and the baroness proposed a stroll outside. Having 
procured seats under the over-arching roof of the Prize Temple, they 
luxuriated in the Watteau-like scene around them. 

There was something remarkable in the voluptuousness of that 
summer day. The air was heavy with a warm, golden effulgence; 
the purple heaven seemed on fire with the intense sunshine; the trees 
and herbage looked bowed and oppressed under it. Far off gleamed 
the white villas and green gardens of suburban Fiankfort; and further 
still the steel colored turrets of the Rbmerberg and the massive old 
Dom crimsoned beneath the sun; beyond all, rose the violet Taunus 
mountains, cut as sharp as topazes against an opaline sky. 

Something Bacchanalian seemed to have taken possession of the 
pleasure-seekers assembled on theFestplatz. .^ready a band of stu- 
dents were raising shouts for German Union, and tossing their col- 
ored caps in the air; brightly-dressed ladies were smiling their 
sweetest smiles; children played about with boisterous enjoyment; 
grave men joked each other like boys. Not a serious or troubled 
face was to be seen. 

” Be happy,” said the baroness, touching Dr. Jacob’s arm, ten- 
derly; “ this is not the place, and now is not the time, to think of 
all that you have suffered. Enjoy the present— let me teach you to 
enjoy it.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


75 


“ First leacli me to forgel the past.” 

” And is that impossible?” she whispered, softly. 

He looked at her, and felt that it was not impossible just then. 
Certainly the Baroness Ladenburg never looked handsomer or more 
bewitching. Her superb hair lay in glossy waves under her small 
lace bonnet: her cheeks were rosy with excitement and pleasure; 
her eyes looked subdued and gentle; her dress, too, might have 
made almost an ordinary woman look beautiful; the delicate pink 
feathers conirasting with the dark hair; the white dress just tinted 
with rose color, the incomparable softness and fineness of the lace 
shawl, enveloping but not concealing; well might Dr. Jacob admire. 

‘‘ You are very beautiful,” he said, simply; ‘‘1 have never seen 
any other woman so beautiful — if 1 were younger I should be your 
lover.” 

She smiled with some coquetry. 

” Having conceded so much, you must concede a little more. Am 
I charming?” 

‘‘Of course.” 

“ And you find pleasure in my society?” 

“ Again the same answer.” 

“ And I find pleasure in yours— therefore you will go with us to 
the Bergstrasse, when the Shooting Festival is over, and not be mis- 
anthropic? Dear friend, let me entreat of you to think of yourself 
— you are used to society, and you need it ; you are unused to soli- 
tude, especially a painful solitude, and it irks you — give up the soli- 
tude and the painfulness whilst you can, and be happy.” 

“Do you really care so much for my happiness, Theiese?” he 
asked. 

” Infinitely beyond my own.” 

Count Josef and the rest of the party had strolled away, and no 
one saw the tear that fell from her eyes but Dr. Jacob. Seeing it, 
he dropped his voice to a tender key, and said — 

” 1 will not be ungrateful; your friendship at least shall be sacred 
to me.” 

‘‘ And you will think no more of the past?” 

“ 1 will endeavor to forget it in your presence.” 

” Confess,” she said, with brightening cheeks, “that your lines 
are cast in pleasant places. You have only been in Frankfort a few 
weeks, and you are received with pride and pleasure by dozens of 
good families; every one is ready to do you homage; every proof of 
admiration and desire of your friendship has been shown— who else 
could attain so easy a victory over all hearts? Your life might be 
all like this intoxicating summer day.” 

“ And storms would still come toward sunset,” said Dr. Jacob, 
half in jest, half in earnest; “see those clouds yonder— we shall 
have thunder ere long.” 

He had spoken rightly. Swiftly from the west, copper-colored 
clouds were rolling toward the Festhalle; and simultaneously 
there arose murmurs among the crowd that a tempest was impend- 
ing; some sober fathers of families, deeming that a thunder-storm 
would have ample play for its wildest game in so light and fanciful 
a building, took the fiiQi fiacre and returned home. In less than ten 
minutes rose a fearful hurricane. The heavens were darkened with 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


tG 

whirlwinds of dust and rain; the atmosphere was changed to intense 
cold from sudden and appalling sultriness, till at last liaiMones 
hissed like bullets against the fairy palace, and every blow worked 
woful mischief; the storm opening, as it were, its giant arms, 
crushed it like a young snpling. 

Meantime, Dr Jacob had half carried, half dragged the trembling 
baroness, and utterly helpless Louis, through the crowded transepts, 
and secured for them standing room under the music gallery. He 
thought that the extra thickness of this part of the building, added 
to tlfe shelter of the gallery, would insure their safety, but even 
here every moment biought its peril. To stand still was dangerous 
—to rush forward was mad. With a kind ot dumb courage, in- 
spired by Dr. Jacob’s collected uamner, his two charges stood s»ill. 

The moment was terrible. The rattling ot the hail, the roar of 
thunder, the crash of beams, the breaking ot windows, lastly, and 
more awfiii still, theories of the multitude, made the scene too awful 
ever to be forgotten. It seemed as it the whole structure was being 
uprooted and beaten in. Some rushed out, to be driven back b}' the 
masses of slate and timber that were swept trom the roof; some 
crept under the tables and benches; hundreds fell on their knees and 
pra3'ed. All at once Dr. Jacob put his arm round the baroness, and 
covered her eyes with one hand, crying at the same time, sternly— 

“ Louis, turn your face to me — do not look behind, if you love 
me.” 

But he spoke too late. Faint from the pressure of the crowd, 
Loui» had drawn back, and ere Dr. Jacob’s words reached his ears, 
he had witnessed the first death that shadowed his untroubled young 
life. Close behind him were standinir, in a little irroup, the rest of 
their parly, viz., the baron and Count Josef, with their friends. As 
the baron quickly stooped forward to escape a shower of broken 
glass, he was struck trom behind, and fatally, by an iron-sheathed 
•beam. Louis saw the momentary death agony; the blanched 
cheeks, the filmy eyes, the convulsed limbs. Heartsick, half crazed 
■with terror, and haunted by the sight he had just witnessed, he 
rushed bare-headed through the living crowd and the flying mis- 
siles, through the morass of crockery, torn clothes, and broken 
benches, till he reached the solitary turbulent heath, which divided 
the F-estlialle from the town. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Poor Mrs. Paulus was in no state of mental or physical health to 
bear such a storm, even had no immediate anxietj^ attended it ; but 
Louis’ unprecedented absence since the morning, and the terrible 
phenomenon, especially as connected with danger to her boy, had 
combined to bring on a fit of hysteria. Connie and the younger 
children, who were never taught to think ot themselves when mam- 
ma was in distress, did their best to reassure her, bathed her brow, 
covered her eyes that she should not see the lightning, and repeated 
a dozen expressions of artless consolation. But their efforts were 
vain, and when Dr. Paulus came upstairs, all in a perspiration from 
damming up windows and mopping up floods of water, he grew 
alarmed at her state. 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


77 

Give me the wine, Connie,’” he said, “ and you. Bob, go down- 
stairs and see if the servants are cariying out my orders: you little 
ones, sit still.” 

“That naughty, naughty boy,” whispered Louisa, gaspingly. 

Oh, Christian, if he should be in the midst of this!” 

” Trust me, he is under shelter. Even an idiot would rush to the 
first house in such a storm, and boys seldom come to any harm,” 
said the doctor, cheertully. 

” The windows of Connie’s bedroom are broken in,” cried Bob, 
from the landing, ” and the servants are too frightened to stir — come, 
papa.” 

Dr. Paulus waited, however, till the storm was somewhat lulled, 
and in the first silence that followed its abatement, a faint ringing 
ot the street bell was heard. Immediately after, Louis stood on the 
threshold, drenched to the skin, but, with the exception of a scratch 
or two, uninjured. 

“Oh! mamma,” he cried, “it was so terrible at the Festhalle, 
and the big trees are uprooted in the promenades, and the ground is 
covered with leaves, and some houses are unroofed — ” 

“You have nearl}’- killed me, Louis: why did you go away?” 
Louisa moaned, and half-raised herself to take him to her heart. 
But a cold firm hand put the child and the mother apart. 

“ Louis,” Dr. Paulus said, icily, “ tell the plain truth quickly.” 

“ Papa,” sobbed the boy, in a piteous voice, “ do not be so very 
angry with me. Dr. Jacob told me you would not mind my going 
to the Festhalle with him. 1 did hesitate— indeed 1 did, papa.” 

“ 1 do not want your self-excuses, sir; 1 want the facts, and the 
facts only. Where have you been since eleven o’clock?” 

“ With Dr. Jacob, papa (sob)— 1 met him at the Posthof (sob) — 
and he asked me to go with him to the Festhalle (sob)— fie said 5 '^ou 
would not be angry with me as it was his doing (sob)— and we went 
there and dined, and the storm came on (sob), and — a gentleman 
was killed — ” 

The last words were almost screamed out, so great was the child’s 
terror at the recollection. Dr. Paulus answered, with a darkened 
brow — 

“ Your fault hai^ brought on its own punishment, Louis. I make 
no further comments upon either; but recollect this — Dr, Jacob’s 
invitation does not in the slightest degree excuse your conduct: he 
could not know whether you were acting as i most dislike— you did, 
and the whole sin is on your own shoulder. Look at your poor 
jmamma’s pale face, and pray to God to forgive you.” 

Be turned to leave the room, and on the threshold added, coldly — 

“ Go to your room at once. If either of your brothers or your 
sister like to sit with you, 1 do not forbid it; but make no attempt 
to speak to me for three days.” 

“ 1 will sit with you, Louis,” whispered Bob, all impatient to hear 
the interesting details; “oh! what a precious soaking you’ve had!” 

“ Mamma, say you are not very angry before 1 go,” pleaded poor 
Louis, brokenly. 

“ 1 hardly know what I say— don’t cry, Louis, and put yourself 
between blankets— take the one off Bob’s bed, and the eider-down. 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


78 

pillow from the top, and 1 will ask papa if you ^^^y have some 
gruel. Now, go, for you are standing m wet clothes.” 

houis went oft with f3ob, and soon Connie stole after them, bear- 
ing a basin of warm soup, which proved an immense consoler. The 
whole story was then given from beginning to end, not without 
shudders on the part of both narrators and listeners. At the close 
of the narrative Connie’s cheek was pale with childish concern 

” The poor, poor man! — how terrible for him to die so suddenlj^l 
Oh! Louis, if it had been Dr. Jacob!” 

IJkleantime, let us return to the Festhalle. Dr. Jacob’s situation 
was one of strange perplexity; for a moment he stood in doubt 
whether to leave the agitated baroness to Count Josef’s rather inex- 
perienced handling, or the missing boy to his fate. Finally, he acted 
for both. Having, by an extraordinary amount of muscular and 
vocal exertion, made his way through the woful cowed throngs, he 
succeeded in placing the baroness in her carriage, whispered to Count 
Josef that he would follow presently, and then returned to arrange 
the orderly transport of the poor baron’s body, and to make his 
search for Louis. It was dreary work. On either hand were seen 
drenched, bruised, and appalled creatures clamoring after lost friends 
or property; for, in the terror-stricken scuffle, families had been 
divided, and clothes literally torn to fragments. The unfortunate 
Festhalle looked like a child’s card-house blown inside out, the 
supporting columns had been stripped of their moss and Alpine 
roses; pictures and panels had been discolored and rent awa}'; ban- 
ners were hanging in fritters. Where, an hour ago, had been all 
symmetry and decoration, were now ghastly ruin and disfigurement; 
and the tattered gloom everywhere apparent struck a keener chill to 
the heart because of the intoxicating sunshine and gorgeousness 
which had gone before. 

Dr. Jacob had not observed Louis’ flight, and accordingly he 
made his first search in the building and grounds. After much in- 
quiry he learned that a bd}’’ answering to his age and appearance had 
been seen to hasten toward the town immediately after the most ter- 
rific crisis of the hurricane. With a heavy, though relieved heart. 
Dr. Jacob drove to the house of his friend. He loved Louis, and he 
would have given worlds rather than have beer; the author of so 
dire a holiday to any child; but the fact of Dr. P aul us ’s probable 
anger did not occur to him, for he was. rather lax in his notions of 
parental and filial obligations. 

His first question to the housemaid was regarding Louis, and find- 
ing that he had arrived home unscathed save by a wet skin, he as- 
cended the stairs cheerfully. 

‘‘My dear Dr. Paul us,” he said, taking both the doctor’s hands 
in his own, ‘‘in the first place, forgiveness; in the second, forgive- 
ness; in the third, forgiveness!” 

” How so?” asked the other, in a friendly though grave voice. 

Have 1 not caused you uneasiness? — have I not brought your boy 
into the must frightful danger?— have 1 not perhaps led him from 
the path of duty?” 

‘‘ Rest easy on all scores,” answered Dr. Paulus; ‘‘ after having 
so thoroughly inculcated obedience on the minds of my children, 1 
hold no one responsible when they transgress. You did not say to 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


79 

Louis — Disobey your father and come with me! I presume you did 
not?” 

” On the contrary, 1 had no idea that he would be acting against 
your wishes.” 

” But Louis knew well on what points of duty 1 insist most strin- 
gently, and therefore the fault and the blame of it rest entirely with 
him. Dismiss the subject from your mind, 1 entreat you.” 

‘‘ Not till 1 have obtained grace tor Louis. For my sake, let the 
matter pass over: after all, 1 am the culprit, and the error into which 
I led him has already met with sufReient punishment.” 

” What he has already suffeied was not the fruit of my displeas- 
ure at his disobedience. You may thank God, Dr. Jacob, that you 
have no children; for tenderly as we deal with them, earnestly as we 
pray for them, how they grieve us! Is it wise, is it Christianlike, to 
foster their very vices from false feelings of affection?” 

” Better to rule by love than by fear,” pul in Dr. Jacob, with mild- 
ness. 

” Excuse me, but 1 think you take a wrong view of the matter,” 
answered Dr. Paulus, warmly. “Are foul weeds pulled up with- 
out a wrench? Are men kept in due respect of law without whole- 
some fear? I will give you an illustration in point. In the old 
Synagogue of Worms (which you ought to visit) the stranger is 
shown three golden crowns over the pulpit, surmounted by a larger 
one; the guide tells you that the first symbolizes Understanding — 
the second, Law — , the third. Government — the larger one above, 
God: and the meaning is this— he who has no understanding abides 
by no law; he who abides by no law, tloes not obey his earthly sov- 
breign; and he who does not obey his earthly sovereign shall little 
know how to obey God. Is there not much of wisdom in this 
Jewish symbol? To the child, does Uot his parent stand as his king 
or law-giver? Does not the whole order of the world hang on in- 
dividual obedience?” 

” True,” replied Dr. Jacob, with a faint smile at his friend’s ear- 
nestness; ” but judge the errors of the head more leuientl}'- than the 
perversions of the heart. Louis did not go in the face of jour 
commands— to the contrary.” 

‘‘ We will not discuss the subject any further,” said Dr. Paulus; 
■” tell me more of this grievous catastrophe. Has the Festhalle 
really suffered so much injury, and is it true that some one was 
killed? ’ 

The matter was thoroughly talked over, and when his visitor had 
gone, Dr. Paulus lighted a cigar, and throwing open his window, 
leaned out contemplativcdy. He never smoked at his casement ex- 
cept in times of serious thought; for, as he looked upon all cases in- 
volving doubt or difficulty unfit for the shattered faculties of his 
■wife, he iiad need of some dumb consolers. The cool dewy air of 
the evening, and a fragrant Havanna, furnished just enoug'h com- 
panionship for his needs. 

As he rejoined his wife, he let fall the following chance clew 
to his brown study. 

“Dr. Jacob is a man of noble powers and great attainments, 
but—” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


80 

Mrs. Paulas was far too meek to ask the meaning of that but, 
but some time after she learned it, without any inquisitiveness. 
Sunt hie etiani sua premia laudi. May all passive wives be so re- 
warded! 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A WEEK had passed since the hurricane; the dilapidations of the 
Festhahe were repaired; its former gorgeousness was in part re- 
stored; the dire day’s work well-nigh forgotti n by the light-hearted 
Frankforters, and the Great Shooting Festival begun. 

Immediately after her husband’s interment, the baroness repaired 
with her children to the Bergstrasse, leaving only Baron Josef (as we 
must now call him) behind, 'who was in no humor to lose the gaye- 
ties he had so long anticipated. Early on the inauguration day, he 
setoff to Mr. Brill’s, looking very much like a doll soldier, in his 
extremely tight fitting white coat, pink facings, and plentiful silver 
buttons. We were in the habit at one time of wondering why the 
Austrian military are clad in such minute coats, but now the fol- 
lowing happy solution has occurred to us. The state of finances 
obliges the government to such an economy — even the emperor him- 
self Sets the example. We will lay a wager that the imperial coat 
has not the breadth of a fat fly de trop. 

Baron Josef appeared more attracted thanever by Miss Aggie; and 
as he had appropriated his balcony at the Hotel de Russie to their 
use, and otherwise contrived to make himself agreeable, besides being, 
in his new rank of baron, agreeable under all circumstances, his re- 
ception by the Brill family was cordial in the extreme. 

“ Will you mind waiting a few seconds?” Mrs. Brill said, apolo- 
getically; ” it is only to be cxpecteil that the girls must have an ad- 
ditional peep or two in the glass on such a day.” 

By-and-by Aggie appeared, looking very triumphant and hand- 
some in her blight dress, flying ribbons, and manipulated cmffure. 
She gave Baron Josef an unembariassed smile; and though only 
sixteen, might have passed for twenty, in her quiet way of receiv- 
ing his compliments. 

” Katchen is not quite ready, mamma,” she said, when the greet- 
ings were over; ” could w^e not as well walk on? She can follow 
with papa and Tommy.” 

Mrs. Brill knew very well that Aggie looked upon Katchen as a 
possible rival, and helped her to play out her little game. Accord- 
ingly, Baron Josef setoff with his two lair charges, and Katchen 
was left to Mr. Brill’s chaperonage. At this time she was in the 
children’s room, helping to dress the youngest girl, and trying to 
keep Tommy from soiling his spotless while knickerbockers* There 
could not have been a greater contrast to the brusque brunette 
Aggie, than fair, fairy Katchen. Somehow, and without the slight- 
est effort of her own, she always had on the dresses that best suited 
one m petite and so girlish— dresses of no special attraction but that 
of being innocent, snowdrop-like, and inaitificial. To day, in her 
white cambric and black Vacq fichu, worn, alter the manner of Ger- 
man girls, around the shou ders, and crossed in front, with no.- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 81 

aflornment but her gohleti hair, she looked a very pretty type of 
girlhood, aud an unconuiion one, in spite of her siiuplicily. 

Great was th.e astonishment of the trio when they descended to 
the drawing-room, and found it empty; the dining room and siiuiy 
were next examined with like success; finally, Tommy called liis 
papa lustily, and that effort proved also vain. The fact was, Mr, 
Brill, unknown to his wife (no one knew^ anything of anybody’s, 
motives in the Biill house), nad gone out half an hour beiore, and 
finding himself in the neighborhood of the HOtel de Russie, had 
asked for the baron’s apartment, and there settled himself comfort- 
ably, Both the servants were absent on leave, to see the procession 
in what stray manner they could, and beyond a deaf old gardener, 
the house was empty. 

Half frolicsome, half frightened, Katchen and her two little com- 
panions hastened through ilie gardens towaid the town, every alley 
was alive with gayly-dressed pleasure-seekers; but not till they had 
passed under the triumphal archway at the Gallus Gate, and entered 
the street leading to the Ross-market, did they become impressed 
with the difliculty of their undertaking. The Ross-market being- 
designed for the climax of the gigantic procession — viz., the group- 
ing of tire banners — was utterly barricaded on every side. Baron 
Josef liad wdsely chosen a back wa3’’, but inexperienced Katchen 
stood aghast and bewildered. Before her was the wide space of the 
Ross-market, with only here and there a group of committee mem- 
bers, wearing colored sashes, aud the members of the different gym- 
nastic clubs, in their brown Holland costume, with colored badges, 
who were .self-constituted police during the festival. Beyond lay 
the Schiller-Platz and the Zeil, dazzling with the streaming flags of 
black, red, aud gold, hung from each window, and crowded with 
gazers. Seeing the forbidden space before her, and the living sea 
opposed bet w'eeu herself aud the Hotel de Russie, knowing wiiat a 
gorgeous and unparalleled pageant would be lost by retreat, and 
feling how vain the attempt to advance, is it unnatural that Katchen 
should shed tears? 

“ Let us jump over this railing," proposed Tommy, boldly; “ if 
any one foliow^s us, w’e can run for it. I’m not afraid of the best of 
’em.” 

“ But supposing we do gain the Zeil, think of the crowds, Tommy 
dear,” said Katchen, in despair. 

” 1 can see a clear space to the right — they are keeping it for the 
procession — it must move in, 5'ou know, before it moves out; Iw’elve 
thousand men, horses, trumpets, and all, cannot drop from the sky. ” 

Passionately desirous of seeing the procession, and at all times 
fond of fun, Katchen dexterously jumped over the rails, the children 
follow'ed, aud awa}'- they sped across the foi bidden Rossmarkt. 
Just as they had set foot on the neutral territory, however, one'of the 
amateur police stopped them. 

”1 am very .sorry, fraiilein,” he said, politely; “but positively 
no one is allowed this way.” 

” But we have a balcony at the Hotel de Russie,” pleaded Katch- 
en, wiih tears in her e3X‘S, ” aud we shall have no chance of seeing 
the procession if w^e are obliged to turn back,” and the young man, 
being gentlemanl}^ aud gallant, .sympathized heartily, though he 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


82 

seemed unable to help. Just at this crisis, one of the committee 
members came up, ami to Katchen’s great joy, she recognized her 
old master, Professor Beer. 

“ What is to be done?” said the athlete; “ this young lady has a 
balcony on the Zeil, and 1 am especially ordered to permit no egress 
whatever. ’ ' 

The professor did not unwillingly find himself the paladin of his 
pretty pupiV; though a grave, not to say an austere man, the sight 
of youth and loveliness always refreshed him like a dewy spring 
morning in the woods. Moreover, he partook of the chivalric, 
urbane, light-hearted humor which pervaded all classes just then, 
and quite in a youthful manner he took Katchen’s hand, and led 
her to her destination. He even forgot to blush over the exploit. 

Thus, happily, Katchen saw that splendid pageant which will not 
easily be forgotten by the Franktorters. Never were so many vari- 
eties of color, so many picturesque effects, so many enthusiastic 
feelings, so many intoxicating and patriotic hopes corubined to form 
one universal jubilee. Music, mediaeval costume, nationalities 
mingled and harmonized, banners and hymns consecrating an 
Utopian union of all Germany — what wonder tliat we were all mad 
with a mirthful madness in the good old Free City of Frankfort ! 

Whilst Aggie was coquetting with Baron Josef and throwing 
flowers to the Freeshooters passing under the window, whilst Katch- 
en and the children were watching wilh large-eyed admiration the 
tawny fur-clad Germans dressed after the description of Tacitus, the 
twelfth-century bowmen in blue doublets and white hose, the four- 
teenth-century cross bowmen in gray and red, the sixteenth-century 
match-lock men in brown and green, and wearing helmets, the fire- 
lock shooters of the Thirty Tears’ AV^ar in black jerkins and orange 
knickerbockers, the pointers in scarlet, bearing eagles and targets, 
the gigantic bouquet carried by little girls and boys in pink and 
white, the twelve first-prize cups carried by young ladies dressed 
like bridemaids, the hundreds of banneis and the countless bands 
of music; lastly, the thousands and thousands of Freeshooters from 
all the German provinces, wearing oak leaves in their hats. 

But, what is Dr. Jacob doing? This highly colored vivacious 
noisy scene was little to his taste, especially just then, for many 
things were troubling him. He had given up his balcony to the 
Paulus family, and enjoyed a vicarious pleasure in the sight of the 
enraptured young faces around him. The joyous huzzaing, the 
trumpets, the Alpine horn, and all the confused sounds and sights 
attendant on the spectacle tired'his senses more than any exertion 
could have done. When, after five hours, it was over, he breathed a 
great sigh of relief. 

“ Thank Heaven, 1 shall be out of this tumultuous scene to- 
morrow,” he said. 

“ To-morrow? — you do not seriously intend leaving us so soon?” 
said Dr. Paulus. 

” Not entirely. 1 shall only stay a few days in the Bergstrasse, 
and afterward return to Frankfort to put all things in readiness tor 
my journey.” 

” 1 am sorry from my heart that it must be so, and yet 1 would 


DOCTOR JACOB. 85 

})e the liigt to persuade you to delay your good errand/’ said Dr. 
Paul us, earnestly. 

“ 1 am sure you would, though 1 confess 1 could not easily with- 
stand your persuasions. Frankfort has been very pleasant "to me: 
liad it not been for that terrible day in the Festhalle, 1 should look 
upon it as one of the most sunshiny spots 1 have ever visited.” 

“Ah, that sudden death created quite a sensation. By-the-bye, 
where is the poor widow?” 

“ Staying in the Bergstrasse, ” answered Dr. Jacob, “ en route to 
Bavaria.” 

” Is it a great blow to her?” 

“ A great shock, undoubtedly; but these mariages de comenance 
do not nurture very warm conjugal feelings. I believe the baroness 
was married, when quite a schobl-giii, to a man she had seen but 
once — what can one expect?” 

Dr. Jacob now led his visitors to table, where a pretty little dinner 
awaited them. He did his duties as host admirably, and rec nv- 
ered his wonted animation ere the first champagne bottle had been 
emptied.^ Turn mctu rewcant vires. Because, like the tired Teucri 
on the Libyan shore, we go to our repast with weary hearts and tired 
frames, rising up from the same refreshed and reinvigorated both, 
mentally and physically, does it argue that we are epicureans? 


CHAPTER XXll. 

AViterever there is a German village, you will find a ” Golden 
Lion,” and a ” Golden Lion ’ presupposes a prosperous landlord. 
Goethe, in ” Hermann and Dorothea,” gives us a charming picture 
of this pastoral element; and to read it, is to pass a summer da.y in 
the Bergstrasse. The life there is the freest from care in the world 
It savois somewhat of sourkraut, has little that is refined or intel- 
lectual about it, but is merry with the music of watei-mills; is philo- 
sophical, with a philosophy engendered from a calm, lovely nature 
and an undisturbed existence; is scented with wild flowers and 
freshly-mown hay, like a poem of Uhland’s; is, in fine, the reflex 
of man}’- pleasant idios 3 mcrasies of German life and character 

On a hot summer morning, Dr. Jacob alighted at the little rail- 
way station of Bickenbach, and following a footpath shaded by 
plum-trees and acacias, betook his way to Jugenheim, one of the 
most frequented resorts of the Bergstrasse. As it possesses a min- 
eral spring, and very picturesque surroundings, Jugenheim is partly 
rural and partly fashionable; to Dr. Jacob the experience was new, 
of so much homeliness mingling with the holiday life of the upper 
ten thousand in German 5 ^ With us, w’e are never more luxurious 
and fine than when taking pleasure; to our cousins, pleasure is 
something so sweet in itself, that very few objective disadvantages 
take from the color of it. For instance, Dr. Jacob found the hotel 
(a Golden Lion, of course) flanked by a tumble-down street, swarm- 
ing with pigs, geese, and bare-footed children; braided on each side 
by wooden cottages, with coarse blue shirts hanging from each tiny 
dormer, and fronting an open space, where the stony spring, or 
Brunnen, drew noisy, unkempt lads and maidens at all hours of the 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


84 

day; to him, the uncomeliness ot the prospect was iiardly charmed 
au4y by refreshing mill sluices, endless undulated woods, and 
beech-cla l heights, ov^erlopped by a superb sky. 

Passing through a courtyard full of poultry. Dr. Jacob found 
himself in what must be called an offshoot of a kitchen, since here 
all the dishes were carved for the table d’hote. This affair was the 
important event ot the landlord's daily life. An hour before, or an 
hour later. Dr. Jacob would have found him a chatty cosmopolitan, 
a much-thinking politician, a village authority amid satellites; but 
now he obtained nothing moie from him than a faint attempt at 
courteousness. To the right and left of him, were plates of various 
eatables; and his thoughts could not soar beyond them. In the salle 
a manger, a few minutes later. Dr. Jacob found him another being; 
lively as far as his extrenie rotundity would allow, exertiiig a won- 
derful authority over his maids, the forty-two guests having never 
to wait for the fourth or fifth course, and never to ask a second time 
for bread or sauce. 

The baroness and her children were inaccessibly hemmed in at the 
upper end of the room, and Dr. Jacob, having entered late, was 
obliged to take the only seat that ottered. VVe may safely affirm 
that there is not one German of five hundred with whom you would 
not find yourself cpiite friendly’", i.e., it you responded to his initiative 
sociability. In five minutes, and before he had finished his soup, 
Dr. Jacob was in animated conversation with a pleasant, rosy-faced 
Wurtemberg officer, and his delicate, sentimental young wife. 
When biscuits and fruit came on, the gentlemen lighted their 
cigars; and soon after, most ot the party descended to the garden, 
where the ladies knitted and read religious novels, and the children 
chased the chickens. 

The baroness greeted her friend with a kind of forced apathy, 
which to strangers might have passed for grief under her new trial. 
The truth was that she had been disappointed in his behavior; she 
had looked for more than cold friendly services from him; she had 
expected him to leave Frankfort, friends, duties, and all else, to 
otter his sympathy and help. Beyond what the urgencies of the 
case required. Dr. Jacob, who was really the most warm-hearted and 
impulsive man in the world, did nothing. Yet, in spite of many 
counteracting influences, in spite of inner struggle and convictions 
of his better nature, he had come to the Bergstrasse to be near her 
once more. But his homage was too tardy to be met with much 
gratitude. 

She began in a collected, business-like way — 

“ 1 have much to say to you about Baron Josef, and should have 
been glad of your advice on other matteis earlier; but I will not 
waste time on useless reproaches to-day. 1 have formed a plan for 
my son’s settlement — for his marriage.” 

” Indeed!” 

” And you perhaps may be able to aid me; of course his marriage 
is the first thing to consider, and that once happily arranged, 1 shall 
feel free to enter upon other attairs. You know Katchen Eggers, 
the ward of your English friend, Mr. Brill?” 

” Surely she is not the wife you have chosen for Baron Josef?” 
said Dr. Jacob, with dismay. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 85 

“And why not? She is well-etlucaled, pretty, and will have a 
very large fortune— could 1 do better for niy sou'?’’ 

“ 1 fear you will find them extremely unsuitcd. Katchen, I 
should say. has not one idea in common with Baron Josef. She is, 
moreover, too 3 ’oung ’’ 

“ Pshaw! I was married at seventeen, and she is a year older; 
the younger Josef’s wife, the better chance she has of being happy, 
since she would easier fall into his ways of thinking. 1 do not pre- 
tend to adorn Josef with good qualitie's that he is innocent of, but I 
contest that girls in far belter positions than Katchen Eggers would 
have no hesitation in accepting such an offer. Luckily, young giils 
here are chosen for, and do not choose, which does away with a great 
deal of false romance and sickly sentiment.” 

“ You are acquainted with Katchen’s guardians, and they are 
agreeable to the contract?” 

The baroness laughed satirically. 

“ Where was a young man in Josef’s position refused? To obtain 
good alliances for daughters is the one end and aim of parents in 
Germany, and they are almost ready to sing a Te Deum when victory 
is won. 1 have not yet entered into correspondence with Katchen’s 
uncle in Russia, but the issue of it is almost certain.” 

Dr. Jacob breathed a deep sigh, and sat for some time In silent 
thought. Beneath the garden height on which they sat, was a 
tlack, shiny pool, in the midst of wdiich a spotless w'iiite rose had 
been thrown by some careless hand, llis eyes grew riveted on the 
polluted .blossom, as if he read in it some sad allegory. 

“This match must not be,” he said, gravel 3 ^ “ Baron Josef’s 
wife w’ould be fitter for her position were she chosen from the ranks 
of the world. Katchen would assuredly disappoint him, and their 
mutual life would not tail to be miserable.” 

“ Married life with us means less than it does with you English; 
it involves fewer duties, fewer responsibilities, therefore fewer dis- 
appointments. Besides, Josef has la iete montee for Katchen al- 
ready. There is love to begin with.” 

“ Love,” repeated Dr. Jacob, with irony; “ youwmuld hardly call 
Baron .Josef's admiration for any woman love?” 

“Not that kind of love which it is said in your country can exist 
between couples who have celebrated both a silver and golden wed- 
ding, 1 own. Josef is likely to tire of his wife in a year; but is it to 
be supposed that all other young men areas faithful as he is fickle?” 

“ 1 have seen very happy married people here as well as m Eng- 
land. Baron Josef is an extremely gay young man, and in propor- 
tion as he is gay, so is he unfitted for a quiet, puie-minded young 
W'oman like Katchen.” 

“ After so many objections 1 suppose you will hardly talk to Mr. 
Brill on the matter— that is to say, throwing the balance of your 
opinion in my scale?” 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ Y'ou might at least show a little more svmpathy for my isolated 
position. Think of what 1 have lost in my late husband— protection, 
position, half my wealth, the diiection of myadairs, the guidance of 
my children — all these 1 stand in need of, j^et you are further from 
me than ever. Far better that 5 mu had never come to Jugenheim.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


86 

She rose and left him without another word. _By-and-by she ap- 
peared at an upper window, beckoning the children indoors; but 
Dr. Jacob saw her no more that day. 

The next morning, at an early hour, the Brills arrived. He was 
made awnre of their advent by the loud voices of Mrs. Brill and 
Aggie in the passage, and by the obstreperous shouting and romp- 
ing of the younger children. At that time most of the other visitors 
were at the baths; the pretty slope of back garden was quiet, save 
tor one or two picturesque old women who were scrubbing earthen 
boilers in a purling spring, and the woodchopper’s echoing ax in 
the adjoining thicket. The scene charmed Dr. Jacob’s bean. ^ The 
morning breeze blew freshly from the beech-plad heights rising to 
the right, amid which gleamed a pretty ducal Schloss; to the left,, 
forming a ravine, towered gigantic hills of syenite; and below', 
flanked in by rock and woodland, lay green valleys, animated with 
rushing rivulets and pink cottages and water-mills, whose wheels 
w'ere never silent. Beyond all, rose the endless beautiful Odenwald, 
or forest of Odin, a chain of mountains that glow in unspeakable 
green against an uufecked purple sky. 

Laying down his book. Dr. Jacob took in all the goodness and 
loveliness of this idyl. Truly, he thought, is calm sunny Germany 
a place in which to educate one’s self to contentment. The abounding 
beauties of nature, the unassailable tranquillity and unambitious do- 
mestic life, the love of simple pleasure, and the constant opportunity 
of gratifying it — in what country are there so many elements wdiich 
go far toward forming a religious and harmless life? 

Just then Katchen passed under his window, and ascended the 
garden-path, looking eagerly to the right and to the left, as it to take 
in all points of the prospect at once. .Her fair hair shone like gold 
in the morning sun, and as she strolled along, swinging a wide- 
brimmed straw hat in one hand, and with the other touching the 
trellised palings, it was wonderful how' her presence brightened 
and beautified the place. Her light figure looked all the pret- 
tier foi her simple cotton dress, and there was a quiet dignity in 
the bearing of her well-set head. Her type of face was more intel- 
lectual lhan that of most German girls; whilst at the same time, she 
liad all those attractions for which they are noted, viz., profuse and 
richly-braided hair, regular features, rosy lips, and delicate bloomy 
skin. As a rule, English wmmen have less perfect features, but more 
vivacity and play of expression, than their German cousins; 
Katchen, however, wanted for no animation or power of speaking 
without words. 

Dr Jacob joined her with a smile, to which she responded, though 
as if with difficulty; never had he before seen her look sad. 

“ My dear child, you must bring no troubled thoughts into the 
Bergsirasse. What makes my little Katchen sorrowful on this sun- 
ny day?” 

The tenderness of his voice caused her to turn away her face, in 
order that he should not see the tears it had called forth. 

“ I do not know that I ought to be unhappy,” she replied, hesi- 
tatingly; ” perhaps it is only discontent after all.” 

” Discontent with whom and with what?” 

‘‘ 1 ought not to tell any one, you least of all, for it is ungrateful, 


DOCTOll JACOB. 


87 

DOt to say treacherous, of me to find fault with kind friends;” she 
lowered her voice, and added, “ JMrs. Ifrill is as kind as a mother to 
me, but she makes me very miserable sometimes.” 

“ A oil did not wish to come here?” 

“It would be the same in Frankfort; she is continually making 
me feel humiliated, both for herself, for Aergie, und for me— why, 
oh! why did she consent to come here at 'the entreaty of Baron 
Josef?” 

Hardly had the words escaped her, when she hastened to qualify 
them— 

“ 1 do not mean to be disrespectful to Mrs. Brill, or to say any- 
thing against your friend; but 1 cannot like him, and 1 hate to be 
near him.” 

She clasped her hands over her eyes and wept passionatel 3 ^ 

“ Dear Dr. Jacob, tell me how 1 ought to act? — this Baron Josef 
pays Aggie overt attentions, but he does that only as a blind : he 
makes love to me, he importunes me at every opportunity to hear 
him, and 1 have a horror of his presence.” 

“ Do not fear to confide in me, dear child,” he replied, kindly. 

“ 1 know better than yourself Baron Josef’s bad qualities, and I will 
protect you from him if 1 can.” 

“ Will 3 ’'ou?” she asked, smiling upon him in the gratitude and 
ioy of her impulsive ^rnung heart. “Oh! 1 shall feel so sate, so 
happy now!” 

“ I confess that your disclosure surprises me,” mused Dr. Jacob; 

“ from all that 1 have observed and heard, 1 fancied Aggie was 
Baron Josef’s attraction here.” 

“Yes you might well fancy so: he plays a deceitful part, and I 
have not the courage or the tact to disconcert him. 1 have once at- 
tempted to undeceive Mrs. Brill, but she laughed at me and called 
me a child; you cannot tell how miserable 1 have been the last few 
days.” 

“ But now you will be miserable no more, and enjoy this lovely 
Bergstrasse with me?” 

“ Ah! that will be indeed delightful! How 1 long to be among 
those sweet-scented fir-trees, watching the squirrels — ” 

Mrs. Brill’s voice close behind interrupted her speech. 

“ How d’ 3 "e do. Dr. Jacob?” she said, in her abrupt way. “ Tom 
desired his kindest regards to you — poor, dear man, 1 wonder how ' 
he will get on now without me to look after them— by-the-bye, the 
oddest report is current in Frankfort concerning 3 mu.” 

“ What may it be?” he asked, quietly. 

“ Katchen, will you mind going to Aggie whilst Dr. Jacob and 1 
have our chat? Well,” she whispered, ere Katchen was fairly out 
of hearing, “ they say that 3 '’Ou will many Madame tie Laaenburg.” 

“ Who says it, Mrs. Brill?” 

“ All th ‘ world, and nobody in particular. Don’t ask me to men- 
tion names. Dr. Jacob: and, moreover, they say that you have al- 
ready a wife, from whom 3^011 have been separated some years.” 

“ You may contradict bolh those assertions, Mrs. Brill; and now 
let us change the subject.” 


88 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


CHAPTER XXIll. 

The Shooting Festival was now at its height; every house was 
decked with garlands and the banners, gold, red, and black, of the 
empire; every day, thousands and tens of thousands flocked to the 
Feslhalle, where a hundred rifles were fired ofl a minute, where gi- 
gantic banquets, and all possible amusements, were catered for the 
pleasure-craving populace. From six in the morning till twelve at 
night, the scene ot festivity was crowded, and no one grumbled at 
being awaked from first sleep by the light-hearted Freeshooters 
clieering and singing strains from “ Der Freischiitz,” as the}’^ re- 
turned home to their quarters. All day long the streets presented a 
study. There you saw the handsome Tyrolese, with his fantastic 
dress and agile figure; the John Bull-like Bremenser, with his green 
tunic, and sunburnt practical stolid features; the joyous Swiss, ever 
ready to drink or dance; the hard-featured, true-eyed Bavarian, ever 
foremost in the shooting-gallery, and wearing doz»ns of admission 
tickets in his hat; the slightly-formed, graceful, aristocratic Aus- 
trian; the bare kueed chamois-hunter of Berchtesgaden ; the wine- 
loving, sunny-tempered Rhinelander. 

Inside the Festhalle, all was life and frolic. At one moment you 
would hear a distant cheering, and find every one mounting benches 
and tables, in order to see some lucky prize-winner borne round the 
building on the shoulders of his friends, all shouting and singing; at 
anotlier, 3mu would see a concourse of people round a trio of Tyro- 
lese singers, who weie elevated to a little platform erected ex impro- 
viso; or a vehement speech wmuld be made, every patriotic senti- 
ment being responded to by noisy enthusiasm, or a knot of students 
would get up a tremendous chorus to some original republican song, 
or a fancy fountain would send up its waters in all kinds of pretty 
shapes, or the favorite band-master Jeschko would wave his 
and drown the buzz of the collected tlnnisands in the rapturous mel- 
odies ot Mozart. Bejmnd the proscribed limits of the Platz itself 
had congregated avast assemblage of booths, dining-rooms, peddlers’ 
stalls, peep-shows, dancing-saloons, and cigar and ice-shops. Here, 
as within the doors ot the Platz, rich and poor mixed indiscrimi- 
nately. Ladies and gentlemen sat down to take ices by the side of 
a group of soldiers smoking over their glass mugs ot beer. Ladies 
might even with impunity join their husbands and brothers in 
toasts of the last-mentioned beverage, standing snb dio. Punctili- 
ousness and conventionalism were absent. It was a rare intoxicating 
time ot pleasure, ot excitement, and of Utopian equality. 

Dr. Paulus did not approve of his children’s heads being turned 
gayety; but he liked them to become acquainted with the world, 
and would have been sorry to keep them in ignorance of so remark- 
ablea celebration as the first greatGerman Confederate Shooting 
Festival. Accordingly, he took them twice to the Feslhalle, showed 
them every object of interest both within and without the building, 
explained the origin and bearing of Freeshooters’ leagues in general, 
and of this one in particular; drew their attention to the different 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


80 


costumes and physiognomies; and held up to their reflection the 
folly of those parents who led children to so instructive a place 
merely to eat chocolate and ices! Dr. Pauliis, it must be remem- 
bered, had no liking for his dinner except as it was the means of 
sustaining strength, and he entertained a horror of his children ever 
thinking otherwise. On the occasion ot his second visit, he was in 
excellent spirits; true, that his poor wife was not b}’’ his side, but 
she had taken a charming drive in the morning, and had seemed a 
trifle better in consequence; the children were delighted with every- 
thing, and expiessed their delight intelligently ; sitting amid them, 
and watching the busy, joyous crowds around, perhaps the whole 
building held no happier man than Dr. Paul us. 

A familiar tap on his shoulder disturbed his enjoyment. 

“ Well, Paulus, wonderful place this — what do j'ou say to it, eh?” 

It was Mr. Brill, looking good-humored, slovenly, absent as usual. 
With him was Mr. Horatio Wood, the new English resident at 
Frankfort, whom, it will be remembered, the jeweler mentioned to 
Dr Jacob in ihe early part ot this story. Mr. Wood was a million- 
aire and a parvenu; one of those honest, H-aspirating men who, 
their fortune having outcroppiid their pretensions, go abroad in 
order to make the most of it. People did say that Mr. W^ood’s fort- 
une represented so many ready-made three-guinea suits, five-guinea 
suits, ten-guinea suits, youth’s paletots, etc., but we need not go to 
the root ot the matter. Rich he was undoubtedly; generous he was 
no less, and important he must therefore be in a small English com- 
munity. Mr. Wood haa not been ill-received. Dr. Paulus wor- 
shiped the golden calf as little as he did the pleasures of the palate; 
and, though on friendly terms with the new comer, had held aloof 
from his costly dinners, because they were compliments he could 
not repay. 

Mr. Brill continued; 

“ I suppose you know that Emily and the young ones are at 
Jugenheim, and that Dr. Jacob has gone there also? — Mr. Wood, 
what do you want to say to Dr. Paulus about Dr. Jacob?” 

Dr. Paulus bit liis lip and listened expectantly. 

” The fact is,” began Mr. Wood, in an unmistakably commercial 
way, ” 1 cannot understand Dr. Jacob, and 1 should be better 
pleased if 1 did. 1 have done what I could for his mission, and 
have made him welcome to my house— but I’m uneasy in my mind 
about him.” • 

” Upon what point?” 

“ I’m a plain man, Dr. Paulus, and 1 say upon many points. 
Had you called upon me for a ten pound note for any mission; had 
you, time after time, drunk of my wine and eaten of my venison, 1 
should have no more to say or think, but what was pleasant about 
it ; in fact, you would have been heartily welcome. 1 know your 
position— 1 know your wife— 1 know your children; you are just 
what people think you to be, and nothing more. But no one knows 
what to think ot Dr. Jacob.” 

” He is a clergyman, he is a gentleman, and he is a man of 
talent.” 

“ q>ue — true, but you don’t understand me. You remember, the 
proverb, ‘ AY here there’s fire, tlierp’> smoke;’ and it holds good in 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


90 

many things. Why should not people set a story about your having" 
a divorced wife?” 

“ They may do it, for all 1 know,” answered Dr. Paulus, with a 
comic lace; ” and 1 am sure 1 should not take the trouble lo contra- 
diet them.” 

Mr. Wood drew his listener a little aside, and continued: 

” But it is not pleasant to hear such reports of a man in Dr.. 
Jacob’s position. Just because he is learned, and preaches well, and 
is so aristocratic in appearance, do I feel provoked by his injiidi- 
ciousness. Why does he; not say he’s married, if he is — or a bachelor, 
if he isn’t? Mystery never did good service to anybody.” 

” 1 have no doubt that Dr. Jacob will be very happy to give you 
a satisfactory account of his domestic relations if you only ask him. 
How can he tell that such silly gossip gets afloat?” 

” Why does such silly gossip get afloat?” 

“Why are there fools in the world, and women who love scan- 
dal? But what is said respecting Dr. Jacob, derogatory to him both 
as clergyman and gentleman?” 

” The fact is,” put in Mr. Brill, with a smile, ‘‘it is in every- 
body’s mouth that Dr. Jacob is going to marry the Baroness Laden- 
burg, and has a wife living meantime.” 

” Let the marriage take place, and the injured lady declare her- 
self, then,” 

” B^or my part. Dr. Paulus,” said Mr. Wood, somewhat nettled 
at his derisive tone, ” this seems to me no laughing matter. Is it 
desirable lor a small English community, like uiir own, to be scan- 
dalized— above all things, too, to be scandalized by a clergyman?” 

” My dear Mr. Wood, 1 should not laugh had 1 any doubts in the 
world of Dr. Jacob's domestic relations; to me it seems unfair tO' 
pay any heed to statements hurting a man whose back is turned. 
When Dr. Jacob returns will be the time to learn all.” 

Mr. Wood seemed by no means to concur with this sentiment; 
and, alter a little further chat, the gentlemen parted. Dr. Paulus 
returned home with the children, and Mr. Wood and Mr. Brill took 
coffee together, within hearing of the band. 

” 1 told you Paulus would have nothing to say in the matter, 
said the latter, in his usual inefficient manner; “and indeed 1 am 
far from believing that Dr. Jacob would do anything to bring 
disgrace upon himself or upon us. The thing, Wood, is preposter- 
ous.” 

Mr. Wood shook his head. He was a new comer, remember, and 
wished to show his importance by making a great stir in some direc- 
tion or other. 

‘‘Above-board is my motto — always was — and 1 must say Dr. 
Jacob is one too many for me. He puzzles me, sets me wondering, 
makes me keep my eyes open to see what he’ll do next; and T al- 
ways feel uneasj^ when a man makes that impression on me. You 
never need fear anything from those who do as other people do, and 
are no cleverer than the rest of us.” 

” Foi my part,” summed up Mr. Brill, “ 1 take people as they 
m‘e, and leave my wile to judge of their characters — 1 find very lew 
ill-natured souls, and no vicious ones in the world. " et each go his 
way unjudged, 1 say . 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


91 


In spite of his outward insensibility, Dr. Paulus had not listened 
io Mr, Wood’s words without a feeling akin to uneasiness. Why 
had not Dr. Jacob made such suspicions impossible by a plain state- 
ment of facts in the first instance? Why had he so often shown 
himself in company with the Baroness Ladenbuig, and tvhy had he 
now followed her to the Bergstrasse? Then this doles far niente life 
of his for the last few weeks— was not this a strange preparation for 
the hardships and toils of a mission to the East? Was his heart 
really so much in his sacred errand as he had represented it to be? 
Was he bound up m it? Did be pray for it? Did he live for it? 

And tlie beautiful, worldly widow of the Baron Ladenburg — did 
Dr. Jacob really cherish an admiration for her beyond that becom- 
ing an elderly man and a clergyman? Had she, and she alone, led 
him to the Bergstrasse? 

Dr. Paulus retired to rest that night with his mind made up. 
Immediately on the return of his friend to Frankfort, he would tell 
him the plain truth and ask plain truth in reply. His own friend- 
ship for Dr. Jacob, his position with regard to him as a missionary 
to the Jews, and their mutual calling, would excuse such inquiiy. 

“It shall be done,” said Dr. Paulus,. and his words, like the 
sic lilacitum of Jupiter, were never said in vain. 

It would be ditflcult to trace the report concerning Dr. Jacob’s 
marriage with Madame de Ladenburg to its proper originator. Cer- 
tainly, there was no ill-natured reason which would have moved any 
one to such a course. Dr. Jacob was at this time the most popular 
man in Frankfort; the most sought after at men’s dinners, (he most 
idolized at ladies’ soirees. Of the baroness, few people knew anj'-- 
thing at all, but it was impossible that they could know anything of 
her so disadvantageous as to give rise to an unpleasant rumor re- 
garding a ten daj^s’ widow. Circumstances, and circumstances 
alone, must be called to account for the story. Dr. Jacob had been 
often seen with the haughty, handsome lady in her husband’s life- 
time, and, after his sudden death, had made arrangements for the 
intermeifl, had transacted money matters for her, had settled her 
accounts at the Hotel de Russie, had finall}" followed her to Jugen- 
helm. 

Why could not Baron Josef have done all this instead of Dr. 
Jacob, seeing that gossipei*s are so plentiful and so uncharitable? 

And if, as some more placid temperaments judged the matter. 
Dr., Jacob would in due time marry tne baroness— multa, why 
so many objections? A man of sixty was not too old for a wmman 
of forty, and there was no law, human or divine, interdicting a 
clergyman from a late marriage. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Baron Josef arrived next day, and then little pleasure parties 
■were got up with great vivacity on all sides. The baroness naturally 
favored all opportunities of throwing Katchen and her sou together, 
as such might directly or indirectly tend to the consummation of her 
pet project. Were we to disclose the force of reasons ab cw, which 
induced Madame de Ladenburg to desire this union so heartily, we 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


92 

fear our readers would find her rather too diplomatic and designing- 
to suit their taste. In the first place, she had a great many debts, 
and Katchen’s pretty fortune would help lier in that respect; then it 
must be highly to her own advantage to have a daughter-in-law so 
inexperienced and^po easily molded as she presumed this young 
girl to be. Kalchen’s tall, lawn like figure, and well-bred delicate 
features, heightened her desirability; for the baroness hated ugliness 
as a plebeian vice, and loved beauty as a patrician virtue; and to 
have a handsome wife would, in her view, enhance Baron Josef’s 
importance and passion. When, therefore Katclien came to hei one 
morning with a iiiessage from Mrs. Brill, she took her hand and 
said, tvinningty — 

“ My dear child, stay with me a little. 1 have a topic to discuss 
with you, which few young girls are unwilling to enter upon. How 
old are you, Katchen?” 

“ Eighteen,” answered Katchen, blushing painfully under the 
close scrutiny of the baroness. 

She is proud, thought the latter. 1 can see that by the swelling of 
her nostrils and the curl of her lip at my question; she is handsome, 
with eyes than can flash on occasions as befits the wife of a baron, 
and with fair hair and complexion whicli will contrast well with 
mine. 1 like you, Katchen Eggers, and 1 will show a real motherly 
love to you, if only you prove tractable to my wishes. 

She said aloud: 

“ Eighteen is the rosebud time of life, wdien love and romance are 
to be dreamed of and lived for. Tell me, Katchen, would you like 
to have a lover?” 

“ I (to not know— 1 believe I am happy without one.” 

‘‘ Happy because you have known no greater happiness; but a 
brighter lot is in store for you, Katclien- -you will be married, yon 
will have plenty of money at your command; you will travel, and 
have all kinds of pleasures within your reach; jmu will in fact, 
begin to learn what life reall}’^ is.” ^ 

The girl started, and looked with her pure, wondering eyes full 
at hei listener: as yet she by no means comprehended the meaning 
of tier words — she only knew that something in their tenor dis- 
turbed her. 

” Well, Katchen,” pursued the baroness, laying one hand silkily 
on her young companion’s arm, “ are you not anxious to know the 
name of this gallant lover, who is coming to lead jmu into fairv- 
land?” 

” My lover, madame?” 

“ Your lover, Katchen; your very own. Listen to my description 
of him, and guess the riddle for youiself. Your lover then, is of 
the middle height, well made, dark, with regular features and good 
mustachios; he dances supeibly, plays on the piano and guitar to 
perfection, pays the prettiest compliments in the world, and lastly 
(which is no objection with young ladies generally, Katchen), he 
wears the uniform of an Austrian hussar.” 

^ ” Baron Josef!” screamed Katchen, utterly shocked from all no- 
tions of propriety, and trembling from head to foot. “Oh! 
madame, let me go!” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 93 

She would have rushed at once from the room, but the baroness 
caught hei hand and led her back,” 

‘‘My dear child,” she said, smilingly, “why this agitation? 
True, a baron does not fall to the share of every young lady, though 
she be charming, and ever so amiable; but do not be flight ened — 
Josef is yours, hand and heart. You shall be my daughter, Katchen !” 

” Oh! no, no— it cannot be!” 

“And why not? Are you fearful of the responsibilities attach- 
ing to the name of baroneks? 1 was at your age, but they sat lightly 
enougli on my shoulders a tew montJis after marriage. Look at the 
bright side of everything— think of the balls you will attend and the 
dresses you will have — ’’ 

“ I cannot marry Baron Josef,” said Katchen, gathering courage 
with the Iresh danger suggested by every word of the baroness; “ 1 
do not love him. Wo should be very unhappy.” 

This to the baroness w^as wholly an unexprCted objection: that a 
young girl should refuse a baron, moreover an accomplished, fasci- 
nating wearer of a military coat, merely because no practical kind of 
love existed between them, was to her an unaccountable folly. She 
laughed aloud, and replied — 

“ Love will come afterward, my little girl, on your part. On his, 
I assure you it is w-ell established already; he is continually dwell- 
ing on your golden hair and blue eyes. What more would you 
have?” 

Katchen’s eyes were fixed to the ground as if by a spell, and only 
a slight tremor told the emotion within. She felt too powerless in 
the strong hands of her antagonist to strike another blow in self-de- 
fense; neither could she, in the first moments of her blind, childish 
fear, ihink of anyone powxu-ful enough to deliver her. In passive 
silence she heard all. 

“ But for the present, this introductory dialogue will do; in a few 
days, 1 shall receive a letter from yoiir guardian in Russia, wdiich, 
if assenting, wdll bring the happy days of trousseau preparation, 
betrothal, and bridal gifts, very near to you. Come and kiss me, 
Katchen, and let me see how^ prettily you can behave to your future 
mamma.” 

Still Katchen said never a wmrd. 

“ Will you make uo becoming little speech to me, no graceful in- 
dication, either by w'ord or action, that may warm my heart to you? 
Foolish little Katchen, how backw'ard you are to become conscious 
of your good fortune!” 

The manner in which these sentiments were expressed savored of 
the most ingenuous womanly nature; but as the untutored rustic 
will detect the true coin from the false at once, so Katchen, simple 
and inexperienced as she w^as, felt that the clear ring of the right 
metal was wanting in them; and accordingly, instead of warming 
into tears or other girlish demonstrations, she replied, 

“Oh! Baroness Ladenburg, let me go! 1 cannot say anything 
to 5 mu now — please let me go!” 

And like a released lark, she flew out of the room. Her message 
was forgotten in her utter bewilderment; passionately desirous of 
solitude, and knowing that it was not to be had in the house just 
then, she stole out of the front-door of the “ Golden Lion,” turned 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


94 

down the narrow street abutting it, and crept into the stillness and 
shadow of the wood. 

Seating herself on the trunk of a tree, she buried her face in her 
hands, thinking deeply, it was no imaginary danger that she had 
to encounter; it was no tar off illusionary evil threatening her— oh, 
no!— the danger was but too real, the evil was but too near. 

Who could help her? Could Mr. Brill?— he was her guardian, 
and had ever been kind and fatherly; would he allow her to be made 
unhappy? or must his course of action be guided by that other and 
unknown guardian in Russia? 

Could Dr. Jacob? He was a triend of the baroness, and he was 
so good and so noble — would he not do his utmost to dissuade her 
from the project— would he not, by his eloquence, use an influence 
far slroL.ger than that ot easy, vacillating Mr. Brill? Had he not 
promised to aid her and counsel her in any troubles? Could she 
show her trust in him more than by confiding in it? ^ The resolution 
to consult Dr. Jacob brought some comfort to her mind, though the 
very thought of Baron Josef as her lover made her tremble with 
fear. The birds ot the air avoid by instinct poisonous herbs and 
berries; and with the innate abhorrence of her pure nature for any- 
thing evil, Katchen shrunk from the merest finger-tip contamination 
with him. She knew that he was selfish, dissipated, and unprin- 
cipled ; she had heard him say cruel things in jest, and look disso- 
lute looks in earnest. She knew, without giving words to them, the 
virtues in which he was most wanting, the sins to which he was 
most prone; and she feared him as children tear darkness, as the 
helpless stag tears the hounds behind it. 

Having thus steadily confronted her trouble, and at last brought 
a little ray ot hope within the circle of it, for Dr. Jacob seeemd as 
a tower of strength to her untried youthful mind, she returned 
home. Dr. Jacob's room adjoined the salle d manger down stairs, so 
that she could enter it without being observed by any one, the latter 
apartment being always empty in the afternoon. To her great joy, 
her timid knock was responded to by the wmll-known, well-loved 
voice of her kind friend. 

“ Come in,” he said, gently, as she stole up to him like a fright- 
ened fluttering bird, with no strength beyond that ot tears. 

He took her hand within his own, and put the damp, lustrous locks 
from off her face, forbearing to speak till the first passion of her grief 
should be spent; then he said, in a calm voice, 

” Katchen— why this despair? Have I not promised to be your 
friend always?” 

‘‘Oil! Dr. Jacob, save me from Baron Josef I” 

” Baron Josef has not impertinently pressed his attentions upon 
you?” he said, angrily. 

” No, oh, no; but the baroness—” 

“ And what has the baroness said or done to cause you unhappi- 
ness? Come, my child, sit down beside me and tell your story.” 

She obeyed him, going over the unwelcome ground with many 
tears, and ending by a passionate appeal to him for delivery. 

‘‘Baron Josef is false-hearted, and 1 hate him; 1 would rather 
die than be his wife!” she said, impetuously, and then she looked 
Up into his face as if she knew that he could help her. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 95 

“You are right, Katclien. Baron Josef is neither true nor virtu- 
ous, and you must not marry him.” 

“ It 1 ‘could only get away from this place,” added Katohen, 
pitifully. ” Think bow constantly 1 shall be compelled to see him 
and to listen to him! Oh, Dr. Jacob! what shall 1 do?” 

“ We must put an end to these marriage negotiations at once, I 
will to-day write to your guardian in Russia, and prevail upon Mr. 
Brill to withhold his consent. There will then be one obstacle less 
in the way, Katchen.” 

Her blue eyes shone like an April sky when the shower is over; 
and she carrie'd his hand to her lips in the fullness of her gratitude. 

“ Will the baroness be very angry?” she asked, simply. 

“ 1 think she will,” he replied, with a smile; “ do you stand so 
much in awe of her?” 

“ Not whilst you are here; but were 1 alone, I would never dare 
to confront her. Oh, Dr. Jacob! you are so good, and so kind, what 
shall 1 do when you are gone?” 

“ Will j’^ou miss me, Katchen?” 

“ Were 1 with you always,” she replied, speaking in a thought- 
ful, pensive way, “ 1 think my life would be wholly different to 
what it is here. You are so unlike any one else 1 have ever seen; 
you have so much love and tenderness toward those who are weaker 
than yourself; you never say bitter words against those who have 
displeased you; you always try to make every one good and happy; 
you always win love because your own heart is so full of affec- 
tion — ’ ’ 

She stopped short and blushed, for he had turned his face away. 

“ Am 1 wrong in speaking to you so? Are you angry with me?” 

“ My little Katchen,” he said, and his voice touched tier more than 
it had ever done, for so much of sadness was mingled with its sweet 
tones, “ could I be angry with you for loving me? No, Katchen, 1 
was thinking that were you my daughter, were you always with 
me, my own life would be twice as happy as it is now; and, oh, 
Katchen (for 1 am far otherwise than you deem), twice as good!” 

“ Good,” she murmured, wonderingly — “ how could your life be 
better?” 

“ Dear, would to God it were worthy of your admiration! — rather, 
1 should say, of your love. But we are all weak, Katchen, and were 
1 like Baron Josef, .young, rich, and handsome, still comparing my 
own heart with your pure nature, I should stand back, and never 
dare to hold out my hand to you.” 

In reply, she held out both little hands to him, and took a father- 
like kiss and blessing from his lips. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Dr. Jacob, like the great statesman whose character is so much 
admired by the lady readers of Lord Macaulay’s History, was a 
Trimmer. He loved always to trim between two extremes, alike 
avoiding pusillanimity and fool-hardiness, conservatism and innova- 
tion. He never willingly offended the most uninteresting acquaint- 
ance, or threw his conviction with undue warmth into any cause; 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


96 

and because he was now called upon to oppose his beautiful friend, 
with no ordinary dep:i*ee of tenacity, he loiind himself in an unpleas- 
ant dilemma. To offend the baroness irrevocably was by no means 
agreeable to him. We must have told our story badly it the reader 
has not perceived that he admired her extremely, and must at some 
former time have expressed his admiration, thereby giving her what 
would otherwise have been an unwanantable influence over him. 

Could Katchen be rescued, and the baroness kept in placidity? 
Here was the Gordian knot for our diplomatic genius! Having 
looked at the matter in all its bearings. Dr. Jacob at length resolved 
to write to Mr. Brill, urging on him the very strong objections ex- 
isting to a marriage between his ward and Baron Josef; to write to 
Katchen’s Russian guardian at once seemed rather a premature step 
in the present state of aftairs, and might do harm, since he, the 
writer, was no relation of the young girl, and had no possible ground 
for interfering. Therefore, through Mr. Brill and the baroness, or 
through no one, could Katchen be freed. 

After having written to Mr. Brill, he sought his lady-antagonist, 
who received him with a coldness of manner that augured ill for his 
cause. 

“ Have' you come to take leave of me. Dr. Jacob?” 

“Rot yet, my dear baroness. 1 can surely spare myself a few 
days’ holiday belore giving up all holidays whatever.” 

“Are you really in earnest about this mission to the East?” shq 
said, sharply; ” do you fully intend carrying out your self- exiling 
project?” 

“Fully.” 

She seemed to consider a moment as to the best way of expressing 
some innermost thought, and then added — 

” To me it seems an unnecessary enthusiasm, and a very ill-timed 
one. At your time of life, one must leave self-sacrificing projects 
to younger men, and live a little for one’s self. How do you pro- 
pose fulfilling your duties to her — to Elizabeth, by such a course?” 

“ You presume what seems to me an improbability, and what 
seemed so to yourself a few days since. Have you not seen her in 
vain — have 1 not sought her in vain? I fear there is no more hap- 
piness in store for me, as connected wiih so dear a tie. Baroness 
Ladeuburg; there are some sins for which one can nev^er atone.” 

“ Then you propose leaving I'rankfort shortly, and leaving it 
alone?” 

He sighed deeply. 

” 1 can but submit to fate, and the consequences of my own acts.” 

“You are wrong,” she cried, vehemently; “doubly, trebly 
wrong! With your brilliant talents and great powers of winning 
all hearts, with your wonderful aptitude for shining m society, and 
iiifluencing eveiyone and everything within your reach, you are 
virtually committing suicide by retiring from the world. Again, 
you are a Sybarite, and you propose toyourself the life of a Spartan; 
you are fastidious on all points of refinement and etiquette, and you 
voluntarily banish yourself to a salvage land. W here will be the 
enjoyment or satisfaction in such an existence?” 

He answered her very slowly. 

“ 1 have already weighed these objections, and whether 1 may ba 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


97 

'wrong or right in the lesolntion to which they have brought me, 1 
jBhall now adhere to it. Listen to me, dear friend. There is one 
whose hand wou’d perhaps slay me from my course, were 1 daring 
enough to hold out mine; there is one whose warm woman’s heart 
could perhaps consent to sacrifice much repute, much worldly ad- 
vantage, perhaps much domestic peace for m}^ sake. I am not too 
old to be insensible to her loveliness and her love, nor am I wanting 
in my appreciation of either; but 1 dare not take so much of beauty 
and so much of happiness to my heart, since where I have hitherto 
given my affection 1 have given unwittingly a curse.” 

Her head was bowed low over lier clasped hands, and she heard 
him with a thrill of joy that made tlie blood dance in her veins, and 
the heart beat tumultuously in her breast. She was, however, too 
completely mistress of herself to be quickly overcome, and her voice 
had no quiver in it as she replied — 

“ Not a curse — only the withholding of it could be that.” 

“ Therese,” he said, with a slight tremor of his lips, ” never think 
that 1 undervalue the deep and generous feelings 1 have called forth 
in your nature; never think that either in worri or deed 1 hold your 
name as less dear and sacred because you have once shown yourself 
too generous to me; never think that 1 leave you without sorrow, or 
that ! shall remember you without regret. But there are impassable 
barriers between you and me. You are rich— 1 have only moderate 
means; and there is a feeling — 1 cannot explain its nature, 1 cannot 
account for its existence — which would prevent any honorable man 
from offering his hand to a woman in cofiiparison with whom he is 
poor. 1 have tried to combat with this feeling — 1 have wrestled 
with it more than once, but it is too strong for me; and such being 
the case, 1 may speak out my thoughts freely to you before we part. 
’For, Therese, we must part.” 

He had risen, and now stood before her, and, taking her hands in 
his, he said, in a low key — 

“We must part, Therese. Duty and circumstances alike lead us 
into different paths. Tell me that you forgive me, that you will 
keep a tender recollection of me. To-morrow, it behooves us to 
meet as friends only. To-day we are parting as lovers, and may 
dare to speak of love.” 

She rose, that proud passionate woman of the world, and flinging 
her arms around his own, laid her cheek on his shoulder, cr 3 'ing bit- 
terly. 

“ Do not leave me — 1 cannot, cannot bear it! The love of my life, 
heart, and soul has been for 3 "Ou, and tor none other; do not cast it 
away, do not teach me to hate you.” 

“ Think of all 1 have said to j'ou — think of the difference between 
your position and mine, between j^oui reiigioii and mine. It cannot 
he.” 

“ It you loved me you would not say so. A woman sees no ob- 
stacle in l]ie way where she gives her whole heart. Ah me! could 
1 only believe that you loved me, 1 should be too happy,” she 
moaned, with pitiful earnestness. 

“ If 1 had no regard for you, should I have come here?” he said. 

“ But you have come to torture me, to break my heart — is that 
love?” and she broke from him as if with sudden indignation. 

4 


98 DOCTOR JACOB. 

He added — 

“ Should 1 have ever shown myself so tender of your reputation^ 
Theiese, should 1 have kept myself so far apart, had 1 loved you 
less worthily? Think tenderly bt me, dearest— least of all, accuse 
me of coldness.’' 

His words were very sweet to hear, though they tended to separa- 
tion, amt the baroness, melting gradually under their influence, 
allowed him to take her hands and look into her eyes. 

“Ton have loved me; would to God that 1 could have made you 
happier, and taken you to my heart, dear one! For tiie last time, let 
me say it, and for the last, let me seal it with my lips.” 

He Kissed her, and then led her to a seat, for she was trembling 
and over-wrought. To moot Katchen and her betrothal with Baron 
Josef was now wholly impossible. Swe casu, sitie consilio deorum 
imraortalium, affairs had taken a sudden and unexpected turn, quite 
putting out ot the question any intervention on that head. Dr. 
Jacob stood m a very different position with regard to the baroness 
from what be had done on entering her roof^^i. Half an hour ago, 
he might have pleaded for Katchen, and perhaps won her cause; 
could he plead for anyone now- with the woman who had offered 
him her love, her hand, her all, in vain? 

Thoughtful and troubled, he left her; the solitude of his apart- 
ment recalled that last passionate phase of their intercourse. Ho 
loved the baroness no more, but he had loved her once, and it pained 
him deeply that he should cause her so much wretcliedness. Her 
beauty, her impulsiveness, her attractions of manner, were not easily 
effaced from his memory: he regretted that she could not still be his 
friend; but had no obstacles existed, he would not have made her 
his wife. There he had' deceived her. Some men can love a woman 
■who is not wholly pure or good, can give up everything for her, can 
become blinded to her very faults. But Dr. *^Jacob, though by no 
means infallible, was not such a man. He could not make an idol 
of a woman whose soul was less white than God had made it. He 
could not bear the slighiest speck upon a woman’s small hand, 
though he was almost culpably temperate in judging men’s errors. 

Like the simple Korse peasantry ot a primitive age, he held pure 
womanhood to be armor proof alike against the beast ot prey or the 
temptation of sm; but if once a spot had flecked it, there was' no 
longer beauty, no longer de'ight, no longer j’espect of man or beast. 

It made him sad to think that tor him all lore, all loveliness, all 
joys of woman’s nearest and best companionship w^ere over. He 
was young in heart, though his hair was sihered; and but for one 
sad memory he would have rejoiced even now to make his home 
with some tender, gentle nature, and for her sake never to wander 
more. ^ Affection, especially’’ the affection of women, was in- 
expressibly dearth him: the sound of a woman’s soft voice, and 
the sight of a woman’s fair face, filled him with gladness and tran- 
quillity. He possessed that strange power over the weaker £ex which 
would have rendered his task easy, if he had set before him the 
pleasant one of choosing a wife; but conscience, reason, duty% alike 
forbade. No, frequent and fresh as might be the flowers around 
him, easily as the freshest would yield to his hand, he must go on 
and take no heed. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


99 


Then he thousrht of Katchen. He recalled the graceful outline of 
lier light figure, the gloss aud beauty of her golden hair, the tender 
sweetness of her earnest blue eyes, the numerous girlish simple 
charms of her manner In his youth he had loved and lost one just 
so winning and beautiful, and he felt that he would have given 
several years of the life that came after, to have wooed Katchen 
Eggers for one long summer day. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

PiiAULETN Fink had a select little circle of acquaintances, who 
...-met at each otlier’s houses once a fortnight, for coffee, knitting, and 
conversation; some years since, with a laudable view to improving 
the tone of these Kaffee-Geselhchaften, the worthy directress had 
induced her friends to vary their evening's amusement by readings 
from the Crania, Oberon, Wilhelm Meister, and the Cid; but tiie 
intellectual flame, for want of a little fanning, had expired soon 
after its birth, aud long and heartily did Fraulein Fink regret it. 
Not being a wife and a mother, she felt less warm an interest in hus- 
bands’ likes and dislikes, children’s ailments and clothes, than did 
her married acquaintances; and when these topics had been fully 
discussed, nothing lemamed but small talk concerning the play, the 
gardens, and the affairs of the Frankfurters in geneial. I’olitics, 
literature, and the world at large were ignored, as befitting only the 
Bettinas of societ3'; for in Germany, Goethe’s Beilina suggests the 
outrageous, unbecoming, and unfemiuiue blue-stocking. Books as 
books. merely were not laboot'd; the historical novels of Muhlbaoh, 
the religious ones of Wildermuth and the modern poets, being the 
most enthusiasticallj^ cited. 

The Great Shooting Festival, however, brought a new and invig- 
orating current into this stream that went “ voiceless b}’-,” and the 
first coffee party, after every flag had been pulled down from the 
houses, was a very spirited affair indeed. Excepting Fraulein Fink, 
there was not a lady among them but could tell stones of the gallant 
Freeshooler, or perhaps Freeshooters, who had been quartered upon 
her household. One had entertained two Tyrolese, and she re- 
counted, with tears in her eyes, the sweet simplicity of these chib 
dren of Nature, their untutored wa3’^s, their lov'e of music, their un- 
sophisticated sayings; another had given bed and breakfast to a 
sturdy merchant from Bremen, who had sent her outdo buy two 
silk dresses for his wife, and given the costliest to her; a third had 
offered the use of an attic to two pleasant young fellows from St. 
Gall, and all she could do to the contrary, they would rna.ke love to 
her girls, and present them with scents aud trinkets; a fourth had 
housed a handsome Austrian doctor, who afterward invited herself 
and husband to visit him and his famil}'' in Vienna; and so on, ad 
infinitum. All had some pretty incident to relate and “ some nat- 
ural tears they shed,” to think that the charming, unequaled, never- 
to-be-forgotten festival was over. 

” For my part,” said Frau Directorin Heinrich, ” could we have 
such a festival again, 1 would willingly receive those dear men from 
Salzburg, though they did dirty my newly-polished floors, aud 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


100 

drink an unaccountable quantity ot coflee — bless me, I cried like a 
child when they went ofl!” 

“ And 1,'’ added Fraulein Fink, “ could but weep to think that 
Germany will never realize the union and freedom ot which every 
one has dreamed during this last fortnight.” 

“ 1 don’t think the Swiss thought much of that,” put in Pro- 
fessor Beer’s mother; “ from what 1 could learn, they only cared 
for the beer and the Festhalle.” 

The Frau Beer was a plump little old lady, with short hair and 
mild blue eyes. She always wore a white cap with a black bow on 
the top, looking as if a crow had suddenly lighted there; and she 
never left off knittinij, or looked at her pins, let the conversation be 
what it might. She lived with her two sons very happily, and knew 
not which to love most, for both seemed to live only for her sake. 
We have before remarked on the professor’s admiration of Katchen, 
but any project of marriage was far from his mind. As to the elder 
son, Professor Edouard, he was too fond of his books, and his walk- 
ing holiday tour, to dream of admiring ladies. 

Besides the Frau Beer, was the merry German wife of Fraulein 
Finn’s French master, Madame Tremoully. She had a fair round 
face, pleasant to look at, and a wonderful knack of laughing at noth- 
ing, and seeing fun in trifles. Then there were the wife and sister 
ot a Lutheran minister, who had resided many years in the country, 
and bore the same comparison to the grammatical Fraulein Fink 
that a Suffolk farmer’s wife and sister might do to a carefully-man- 
nered schoolmistress in London; they perspired a good deal, though 
it was five o’clock in the afternoon, and sat on the sofa as it they 
feared it was going to break under their weight. These ladies made 
profound obeisance to Fraulein Fink, and never premised anything 
before backing it with her opinion. A lively advocate’s wife, with 
a great predilection for sweets and scandal, and a very tall old lady 
who w'as too deaf to join in anything but the coffee, chocolate, and 
knitting-pins, completed the party, worthy Frau Beer representing 
the hostess. 

■ ‘ The only drawbacks to the whole affair,” said the country Frau 
Pfarrerin, in a broad Suabish brogue, ” were the smash of crockery, 
and the death of Baron Ladenburg caused by the hurricane. They 
say that five thousand pieces in all were broken, and as to the poor 
man, he hadn’t a gray hair.” 

“One can well say,” answered Fraulein Fink, “ in the words of 
Neandei, — 

“ Das Leben ist gleich einem Traum ; 

Gleich einem leichten Wasserschaum, 

Ist alle reine Herrlichkeit.” 

“ But the baroness is not inconsolable,” cried the advocate’s wife, 

‘‘ 1 don’t repeat anything without good authority, and 1 assure you 
she will marry again when the mourning is over.” 

‘‘ Ah!” came from all quarters of the room. 

‘‘Yes; moreover, she is to marry an Englishman, Dr. Jacob.” 

Fraulein Fink immediately gained immense homage by recount- 
ing Dr. Jacob’s charming manner and agreeable conversation, of 
wliich she had been favored with personal experience. Wlien the i 
whole story of the memorable evening that he spent at her house J 


DOCTOR JACOB. 101 

had been ffivcn, the advocate’s wife looked round with a mysterious 
smile. 

“ But you will all be surpiised to hear what more 1 have to tell 
you,” sue said. “Oh! these English! — these English! Far from 
being rich, as pe<^ple suppose, Dr. Jacob will marry the baroness in 
order to pay off his debts!” 

‘ ‘ He lodges at the Hotel de Russie, and lives there like a prince, ’ ’ 
said one. 

“ He gave the English clergyman’s wife a splendid cameo brace- 
let,” cried another. 

“ He gave Frau de Paulus a solid silver sugar-basin!” screamed a 
third. 

“ He has spent fifty thalers at Albert’s on children’s toj^s!” ex- 
claimed a fourth. 

“ His room at the hotel is full of costly vases and books,” added 
a fifth. 

“ He spends money as it he were a Rothschild,” finally clinched 
Madame Tremoully, and then all the ladies sat in silence looking at 
each other. By-and-by their surprise died away, and those who, 
like Fraulein Fink, had seen Dr. Jacob, began to dilate on his hand- 
some bearing, his winning voice, his sweet smile; he was cpiite a 
Goethe among them, and indeed they drew many a comparison be- 
tw^een this wonderful Englishman and their idolized poet, lor all 
German w'omen idolize Goethe. 

About eight o’clock, the ladies separated, assuring the Frau Beer 
that never was coffee so good or cakes so excellent as hers. Cer- 
tainly, both had tasted sw'eet to the palates of all ; but remember, 
dear reader, that delightful bit of gossip concerning Dr. Jacob! 
Was ever coffee insipid, were ever cakes dry, when flavored with a 
spice of scandal? No, no! We say it in all charity, but at the same 
time with a strong conviction of its truth. 1 dare sa}^ Lucretia and 
her friends would not have kept so quietly to their spinning-.w^heels, 
had not some neighbor, or neighbor’s wife, formed the topic, and 
therefore, bond of union, between them. 

As soon as her visitors had disappeared, the active old lady, lay- 
ing aside her cap, began to prepare supper. A very small kitchen, 
furnished by an extraordinary variety of green earthenware, stewing- 
pans, and bowls, adjoined the family refectory, and here, with the 
assistance of a comely maid, she soon concocted a savory though 
homely supper. The Beers were not rich, and only occupied a small 
flat on the fourth story in ah unfashionable street; but they were 
comfortable, contented people, and always sat down to a well-sup- 
plied board. 

When all was ready, she tapped lightly at the door of her sons’ 
rooms, and then the little famil}'^ sat down to taole. 

We must say a word about the elder professor. He was a very 
thin, fragile locking man. with large eyes, that hgd been used to 
the detriment of their luster, and a broad wrinkled brow, telling you 
of all sorts of Kantean studies and critical investigations, perhaps in- 
volving more mental power and exercise than many more practical 
and progressive subjects have done. He was not a dogmatic -man, 
though fond of skirmishing in conversation,, and could hold his 
own, in argument, against any dozen learned professors in Germany. 


102 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


It was pleasant to see how much these two learned sons made of 
their imlearned mother; praising her cookeries with delicate flattery, 
as if she had been some young lady to whom they were making love; 
helping her to the nicest morsels; deferentially hearing her opinion 
upon topics of which she knew almost nothing, and taking lor wit 
all her homely little sallies. AVell might the Frau Beer be proud of 
her two professors. 

“ Thou catest no potato-salad, my Felix,” said the old lady, with 
concern; ” surely there is something wrong with thee. Never but 
once have 1 seen thee refuse it, and that was when thy father died — 
poor dear father, how he loved good eating!” 

Professor Felix smiled (it is wonderful how^ a smile can irradiate 
a hard-featured, brown-skinned man), and replied— 

” No wonder that Edouard finds Chinese so easy, since his mother 
has bequeathed him such a memory. Holiday's make me bilious, 
mother — when I have climbed up the liighi, 1 shall have a better 
appetite.” 

The conversation now turned upon tbe coming Swiss tour of the 
brothers, and the potato-salad was forgotten But it is not uniiotice- 
able in our history, for people of Professor Beer’s consistent charac- 
ter do not refuse a much-loved delicacy without reason; something 
more than holiday-making had taken awaj’’ his appetite. The fact 
was, he had just heard the rumor of Katchen’s betrothal with Baron 
Josef, and though the intention of asking for her hand himself 
might olhqrw'ise never have been more than a misty dream in his 
mind, to know her the betrothed of another baused him sharp pangs. 
It is a question whether Werther wmuld have deemed Lottchen half 
so charming, had not that cruel Albert, like the dragon Ladon 
guarding the golden apples, stood between himself and his goddess. 
Had no such tidings reached his ear, Professor Felix wmuld have 
turned to the potato salad with ordinary relish, though in reality 
Katcheu was no further removed from him now than before. But 
no amount of Sanskrit, flebrew, and Scandinavian literature had 
rendered the professor’s heart insensible to the graces and gentleness 
of that fair young pupil of his; and he recalled her shining hair, her 
smooth stiaight blow, her candid loving blue eyes, her rosy lips.dier 
soft voice, with an angry self-condemnation, and a feeling- of bitter- 
ness toward the young baron. He was not aware of her rich parent- 
age, and he thought fiercely — AA'hy did 1 not try for the prize? 
True, she is young and beautiful; perhaps not so young or beauti- 
ful, but my love might have wmn heiT I'en years ago 1 lost Hedwig 
by not speaking in time, and she married a Jew doctor fifteen years 
older than herself. Katchen Eggers, like Hedwig, is w'on by the 
boldest wooer. 

Professor Felix went to bed in a very disturbed state of mind, 
thinking of the sweet Hedwig he had lost years ago, of the sweeter 
Ivatchen he had later loved no less, and equally in tain. 

A German poet has said, “Die erste Liebe ist die beste the 
first love of one’s heart is sweetest; and many othr 3 rs have sung in 
the same strain. But we don’t believe a word of it. True, that 
Paris returned to his spring-tide love, CEnone—but remember, dear 
reader, the intervening story of Helen and Troy, and all the passion- 
ate phases of it; did he seek ffinone till Helen w'as lost forever, and 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


103 


he needed a tender nurse tor his wounded body and sick soul? Then 
Dido again; did slie not vow eternal fidelity to her much- loved lord, 
Acerbas? What became ot her vows when young ^neas, with his 
noble stature and lovely locks, and “ purple light of love,” presented 
himselt at Carthage? Did she not use all womanly wiles to entice 
him to stay? Did she not, having enticed in vain, throw herself 
despairing on a funeral pile, and, like a swan, di(i,.singing her own 
death chant? No, no. 

“ Oh, love, thus raay’sfc thou know my love for thee, 

In that I once before have so well loved : 

We do not trust our treasures over sea. 

Unless the ship is proved.” 


CHAPTER XXVll. 

Mr. Brill, with an unaccountable amount of energy, induced 
by a private lecture from Dr. Paul us, wrole back that under no cir- 
cumstances would he countenance the marriage of his adopted 
daughter with a Roman Catholic, baron or no baron. He further 
added, that he had never approved of Baron Josef’s intimacy with 
his family, and urged upon Dr. Jacob to reason with Mrs. Brill and 
Aggie on the matter; they wouldn’t mind him, he added pathetic- 
T ally. Both mother and daughter had been aghast at the very idea of 
quiet Katchen securing such a prize, and eventually agreed that it 
was a satisfaction she was cheated, even if Aggie were in the same 
boat. 

” After all, 1 believe Katchen’s money tempted him,” said Aggie, 
with worldly wisdom; ” and if he propose to me, why, mamma, 
we must manage papa, that is all. Baron Josef is none the worse 
for having been bred a Catholic, and 1 could go to church all the 
same,” etc., etc. 

Matters, therefore, went on smoothly at Jugenheim, except that 
the baroness seldom left her apartment, and never to join in the many 
excursions that were proposed and carried out. She met Dr. Jacob 
only at the table d'hote, where they interchanged a few words of com- 
mon courtes)% and parted without a hand-clasp. 

That she was suffering, and suffering deeply, was plain to all eyes, 
though none guessed the cause. Perhaps her poor governesses and 
tutor fared worse in conseipicnce; certainly she was never in good- 
humor with them for twm consecutive hours, and treated her chil- 
dren with alternate indulgence and severity. 

Baroii Josef’s spirits seemed in no wise damped by Mr. Brill’s 
decision. He tormented Katchen less by his attentions than former- 
ly; but flirted all day long with Aggie, romped witliFlory, and gave 
presents to the little ones. Certainly there was a spice of bonhomie and 
rollicking good-nature about this young man that went far to cancel 
his rakishness in the opinion of those whom he tried to please; and 
he did try to please the Brills evidently. 

” Why are you such {ffool, Josef?” said the baroness to him one 
morning, wdien he had been showing Aggie undue attention in her 
presence;*” those English girls are not to be played with, 1 assure 
you. It is a dangerous game, and if you get yourself entangled in 


104 DOCTOE JACOB. 

a foolisli marriage, wliat will become of you?— you are bound hand 

and toot by your Jew creditors already.” 

Baron Joset apostrophized his creditors in a very uncompliment- 
ary manner, and continued, — 

‘‘ Never mind me, mamma; I’ll be the best of sons to you, if you 
let me go my own ways. 1 don’t mean to marry the little black- 
eyed thing— it is only a flirtation, and in the Bergstrasse se saum; 
one must flirt to get rid of the time. Why don’ jmu flirt, mamma? 
— that was quite your forte, once.” 

” 1 tell you the pastor’s wife does not look upon it as a flirtation; 
if so, need she have snubbed you when you appeared in the light of 
Katchen’s suitor? Need Agatha have snubbed you?” 

This flattered Baron Josef immensely; for the admiration of a 
German girt, and that of an English one, were not one and the same 
thing. He did not take up the cudgels again, but made great eyes 
at Aggie when next they met. 

Dr. Jacob dreamed away the next few days in the manner that he 
liked best — reading pleasant books beneath the cool shadows of the 
beech wood; bathing at sunrise; chatting with the peasantry at all 
hours; climbing sunny heights at evening, and looking down upon 
the lazy happy villages below. This kind of life— the basking, as it 
were, in sunshine and summer sounds, this utter yielding to inno- 
cent voluptuousness — dulled him to every experience but enjoyment. 
All troubles, past and future, grew faint in his mind; he was 
happy for the time in the way that children and brute creatures are 
happy — making friends of Nature, and all that was hers. 

Another Influence was present. Not a day passed but Katchen 
grew nearer and dearer to nim. He talked to her of the world in 
which she had hitherto lived so simply and so ignorantly; he led 
her on to views of life in its various relations wholly new, charming 
and absorbing to her; he guided her fresh young mind, step by step, 
from its childish wonder and bewilderment to the threshold of 
womanhood, and astonished as well as awed her by showing the 
distance she had mentally traveled und6r his guidance. Art, books, 
science, poetry, above all, life with its mystery and its sadness, were 
now subjects of reflection to her. He showed her what was beauti- 
ful, and she felt the beauty; he said what was good, and she recog- 
nized the goodness; he taught her what poetry could be, and she 
trembled before the sweetness of its power, in love with the life 
that was not the life of yesterday or to-day, but the new life he had 
made for her. 

Katchen now felt that there were a thousand things existing in the 
world of which she should never have known but for him. The 
sweetness of Tennyson, the power and the pathos of Goethe, the 
sunny life of Lowell, the splendid fantasies of Shelley, the might 
and marvel that a picture, or a statue, or a landscape can possess — 
all these were opened to her as the leaves of a book which he had 
written. 

And Dr.^ Jacob found almost as much fresh, sweet existence in 
these teachings. To watch the trembling, ui^steady light of her eyes, 
the eager flush of her cheek, the rapt smile of her lips — to feel that 
he was leading this guileless and loving nature into an atmosphere 
worthy of it — to feel, above all, that the joy and the wonder and 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


105 


tlie tearful rapture were so much homage paid to himself— whilst 
yielding indolently to the charmed time, he hardly knew how far its 
enjoyment and piquancy were due to Katchen. He liked to have 
her with him, and confessed that he liked it; but he by no means 
imagined to what degree this liking went. He wished that she were 
his child — and was not that natural? 

One morning she tapped lightly at Dr. Jacob’s door, and begging 
permission to enter, put a small packet into his hand. 

“ 1 — 1 have felt so grateful to you, and so unable to show my 
gratitude,” she said, with fresh bloom on her cheeks — ” you must 
take this, 1 have been very happy in wording it for you.” 

He broke the string, and found a delicately-worked traveling cap, 
very inexpensive, very simple but patterned in flow^ers, with such 
patience and skill as only German girls are capable of in embroid- 
ery. English young ladies read too much of Ruskin and Carlyle to 
spend time upon very laborious gifts, however grateful they may 
feel. 

“My little Katchen, have you really set all these — all these 
stitches for me? That was too kind of you; you will make the cap 
a constant reproach when 1 wear It, for 1 shall think of your poor 
tired eyes.” 

“ Oh, no!” she cried, eagerly; “ you must think only of my glad 
heart. 1 was alw^ays singing over it, or thinking of the happy days 
I owed to you— perhaps a whole happy life. Who knows?” 

Dr. Jacob turned the gift in his hands with unaffected pleasure. 

“1 have received many presents in my life-time,” he replied, 
“ but none so welcome to me as this. Others have beep generous to 
me from motives of self-interest, of vanity, and petty ambition — 
you, from the tenderness and love of your heart. You must let me 
thank you tor it, Katchen,” and so saying, he kissed her on the 
brow. 

It was surely neither wholly an unwarrantable nor strange act; 
for a man of sixty may kiss a girl of eighteen with impunity, when 
he entertains an honest, father-like affection for her, and has for 
weeks treated her as he might do a child of his own; yet Katchen 
trembled and blushed with an emotion w^hich it would have been 
difficult to define. She had never trembled and blushed in his pres- 
ence before— at least, from the same feeling. What had he said or 
meant, that her heart should beat so tumultuously, and the slow 
words falter on her lips — 

“ 1 must go now — ” she stammered. “ 1 cannot — ” 

“ Where must 5 mu go?” 

“ Nowhere— that is, all the others are gone to the baths, and 1 
had better go to meet them.” 

“ Get your hat and take a little stroll with me instead,” he said, 
smiling; “ 1 will show you a spot fit for the fairies, and read verses 
to you that shall rhyme with the mill-wheels.” 

Katchen was ready in a moment, almost too happy in the prospect 
of a walk with him, and the two set forth gayly. 

It was a perfect July morning. The white roads warmed the feet 
like hot lava, the broad unblemished sky glowed like purple ada- 
mant; sharp and clear against it stood out the mountain summits, 
here and there a gray ruin or white villa gleaming amid the rich, 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


106 

silent forest-green. In those upper regions all was motionless, 
hushed, and aglow with luxurious, lethargic warmth— but below, m 
the gold-green valleys, mill-wheels were turning endless cr^^stallme 
cascades, and under the cool purple shadows of the lichened rocks 
a lude wooden cart or two drawn by oxen were wending their 
drowsy, tinkling way; here and there, a sunny yellow upland re- 
sounded with the voice of women reaping, in blue bodices and red 
skirts, or the glimpse of a bright^ red bloomy orchard, alive with 
apple- gatherers, broke the sultr}^ stillness. 

Br. Jacob led Katchen through the village into a lovely ravine, 
where the beech-clad heights on either siile threw deep shadows 
over dell and glade, and where no sound was heard but a single 
wood chopper’s ax in llie distance, and the monotonous purling of 
a stream at their feet. A curious circular stone table, with two or 
three broken granite columns near, reminded them that they were 
on the verge ot the Forest of Odin. 

German scenery, like German pastoral poetry, induces a calm in- 
active frame of mind, which in England is difficult to attain. Dr. 
Jacob was not the same man that he had been on coming to Jugen- 
heim a few da^^s since; his thoughts had flowed into untroubled 
channels, and the waters tasted sweet and refreshing to his soul. 

“1 shall often think ot Jugenheim,” he said to Katchen, after 
silently contemplating the scene around. “ Pray God, my dear 
child, Uiat this sojou’n may be to you the happy threshold of a hap- 
pier womanhood. For me, it is the Indian summer of a troubled 
life.” 

“ Troubled?” echoed Katchen; “ have those died who were dear 
to you? A man is so tree and brave, and can throw his heart and 
soul into so mauy things— 1 cannot understand a man’s life being 
sad. Women have no consolation under trials but to sit at home 
and work. Men have so much,” 

” Worse things than death can divide those who love each other, 
Katchen; wrong, estrangement, anger— death is better than either 
of these.” 

” You ought never to have been made unhappy, because you are 
so good,” she said, earnestly, ” you have made my life quite differ- 
ent from what it was, and when you are gone, 1 shall try to be as I 
know you would have me. If 1 could always go to you for advice 
and assistance, 1 should look into the future without fear ; but though 
you have freed me, and given me happiness now, by-and-by other 
dangers may come, and -you will not be near to help me.” 

Though he was an old man, it was very sweet to hear her say 
this: and he thanked her for her confidence. 

” You must not call me good, my child. Many troubles and 
temptations have led me from my better nature, and made me fault- 
ier than I might otherwise have been; 1 trust to God to forgive me 
for my short-comings, but it pains me to hear such praises from 
5 ^our lips. Perhaps, when 1 am far away, you will hear evil ot 
me — ” 

” I would not believe it!” she cried, with a flash ot indignation 
in her large blue eyes. 

“ But it you were bound to believe, Katchen — if it were true .?” 

“Oh! no— no, you are jesting; you wdll be worthy of my esteem 


DOCTOR JACOB. 107 

and love always,” she replied, pleadingly, and locked her little 
hands aronnd his arm. 

Ke sat for some moments in deep thought, not looking at the 
glowiug landscape before him, not looking on the fair earnest face 
by his side. New and strange thoughts were passing in his mind. 
Was this sojourn at Jugenlieim really the Indian summer of his 
life? Or were joy and sunshine and affection in store for him here- 
after? He looked into his own heart, and read there a sweet sudden 
conviction. 

When he spoke his v'oice was moved. 

” 1 am thinking, Katchen,” he said, very slowly— 1 am think- 
ing that I should have been a better and happier man had 1 known 
you in my j^outh. 1 am thinking, Katchen, that the best and 
brightest successes of life are not worth the pure affection you give 
me now. I am an old man, and the fresh flower of the spring 
would wither it taken to my heart. Your hair is golden, but mine 
is gray, and though 1 love you— love you, Katchen 1 dare not ask 
you to be ni}’^ wife. Tell me only, were 1 a younger and happier 
man, were 1 all and more than 3 ’’ou deem me to be, could you love 
me— could you love me, sweet one, with the one dear love of vour 
life?” 

yhe did not burst into sudden tears, or tremors, or blushes, but 
calml}’^ and gently crept nearer to him, whispering — 

” I do not know if 1 could have loved you then— 1 know' that 1 
love 3 'ou now'. Y'ou found me a child, but you have made me a 
w'oman, and 1 love you with a woman’s love. If \you will take me 
to your heart, if you will let me follow you to the end of the w’orld, 
1 will thank God daily on my knees for so much happiness, and 
pray to become worthy of jmu.” 

Then she hid her face on his arm, and wept like a f lightened 
child. For some time both w'ere silent, but his hand passed caress- 
ingly over her hair, and that touch conveyed love and trust in it. 
Wlien she grew calmer, he said, in a low, sad voice — 

“ My darling, 1 love you as 1 never thought to love again— per- 
haps for a few years 1 could make you very happy, but think of 
the great gulf between us two — think of my gray hairs, Katchen, 
and of the swift age stealing upon me. Did 1 think of myself only, 
1 should, Avithout pausing, place the w'hite blossom of your pure 
young life on my’^ bosom, and w'ear it proudly, and with deep thunk- 
ful joy. But 1 think of you also, Katchen, and 1 dare not earn a 
short selfish bliss by such a sacrifice of another.” 

She heard him w'ithout a word, and he continued — 

‘‘Listen, Katchen, and judge whether 1 love y^ou truly or no. 
To make you mine, would be to render my declining y'ears the most 
perfect ones of my life. The sight of your fair young face, the 
sound of y^our sweet voice, the love of your innocent heart, would 
so alter and brighten my future that, did 1 hope for such happiness, 
I could nol speak calmly of it to you now. Y’ou would give me 
your love, feeling that you made no sacrifice by so doing. 1 refuse 
It, because I look into far-off years, and know what they must in- 
fallibly bring.” 

” What must they bring?” asked Katchen, brokenly. 

” Separation— separation for ever, my child. Remember that I 


108 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


can hardly expect more than a few years of life. Could 1 bear to 
leave you so soon? — could 1 be happy whilst we weie together, 
knowing that death must divide us ere long. Would you be happy 

so?” , , 

She put the damp golden locks from off her brow, and fronting 
him, said, with a strange pathetic eloquence— 

“ What you say only makes it plainer to me that we should not 
part now. Because you are old, should I not, loving as 1 do, cling 
closer to you? Because we may soon be separated, with no more 
meetings on earth tor us, should 1 not grudge every moment spent 
away trom you? You speak as if 1 should love you from duty, and 
not for love’s sake— as it 1 should serve you with my hands, and not 
with my heart. Were only a day remaining to us, since we love 
each other, should it not be spent together? No matter whether the 
dav were of summer or ot winter, prosperous or unhappy, should 
we not make it our oivn? Let me go with you, let me judge for 
myself whether 1 chose wisely or no; only let me follow you and 
1 0 Ve 3 ^ou always ! ” 

it was strange that Dr. Jacob, who had listened unmoved, a few 
days since, to the passionate outpourings of such a nature as that of 
the baroness, should be touched by the simple plaintive eloquence 
of this young girl. His eyes grew dim, his lips trembled, and he 
could not give utterance to his thoughts— his. whole being was trans- 
fixed witirwonder. 

“ Do you love me so, Katclien?” he asked. 

“1 have never loved before— I have no one else to love!” she 
cried, passionately. ‘ ‘ If you leave me now, it will break my heart. ’ ’ 

“Oh! my little one, think again; for in loving me, you will have 
much to bear. The world will make sport of you, Katchen, if you 
become the wife of an old man— the world will not forget that you 
are rich, and that 1 am in need ot wealth — the world sets itself very 
bitterly against a pi’ecedent. Could you be patient whilst it scoffed 
at us both?— could you love me, and be happy in my love through 
all?"’ 

“ Y’ou do not care for me— 1 know it all now. Oh! why did 1 
give my heart to you?— let me go, and never see your face again.’’ 

She would have broken from him, and fled like a fawn, but his 
strong hand and sad voice kept her back ; pale, silent, and trembling, 
she allowed him 1o take both her hands, and speak his thoughts. 

“ Child,” he said, “ 1 ani cruel only because 1 hold your happi- 
ness too dear to be trifled with. 1 have tried you, and you have 
shown me the steadfast loyalty ot your nature. 1 have held up be- 
fore you in its true light the sacrifices you will make in becoming 
my wife, and 1 find you fearless, and fond, and unshaken. Be ft 
so, Katchen. 1 take all j-our love, God knows, humbly, as to my 
own unworthiness of it; but hopefully as to my power of respond- 
ing to it. Y’^ou shall be very happy, darling, so long as my dear 
love can make you — the rest we must trust to God. Let me kiss 
3 ’’ou, Katchen, and claim you henceforth mine.” 

When Dr. Jacob led Katchen back to the “ Golden Lion ” half 
an hour afterward, neither of them could realize their respective 
positions. For Katchen it was a joy wondrous, unexpected, wholly 
absorbing, to know that he loved her. He had been the first idol ot 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


109 


her 'W'arni young heart, the mirror of all that was good, and chiv- 
alric, and dear; he had hitherto stood far above her, a god almost, 
in his talents, and virtues, and reverent bearing: now he had taken 
her to himstjlf, lo be, as long as life should last, his joy, his child, 
his wife ! His wife, and he loved her — he had said that he lo\ ed 
her. 

In her new triumphant happiness, Katchen longed for an oppor- 
tunity of showing her love; she would be, through all, so true, so 
good, so loving to him! 

To Dr. Jacob, the revelation of Katchen’s love came as a dream 
in the night. He looked at her fair fresh girlhood and asked him- 
self — What am 1 that 1 should, beyond other men, win so much 
love? Can 1 love her and shield her from suffering? Can 1 keep 
the bloom on her cheeks, and the peaceful light in her eyes? So far 
as his own powers went, he did not doubt that she could be happy. 
He knew that he possessed a strange influence over all women; that 
young and old alike yielded to it, and that his love was masterful, 
and could ever carry victory before it. His heart beat proudly and 
joyously at the new spring-tide awaiting him. She loved him; she 
had promised to be his wife. Had he not a right to rejoice? There 
was no thought in his mind of separationor wintery days now — lo re- 
ward her trust, to respond to her love, to render life with him one 
blissful summer-day — for these ends must he henceforth live. Nos 
Capuam sumpsimus. Do not suppose that it was the young men 
only who forgot their soldierly duties and sworn hatred of Rome, 
amid the marble villas and myrtle groves of Capua. Many an in- 
experienced Ulysses, many a sage Priam doubtless doffed his sliield 
and buckler, to take a short delicious rest; they knew that the 
Romans were not far off, they knew that their enemies were ready, 
yet they lingered and drank the cup of pleasure provided by the 
gods. Of course they saw their error afterward. Who is not 
weather-wise when the storm is over? 

As they entered the garden Dr. Jacob said — ^ 

“ It will be well for us to keep our own counsel, my child, for 
the next day or two. Till 1 have written to your guardian and 
heard from him, I cannot appear in the light of your betrothed; it 
would hardly add to your comfort to make our engagement known 
before it has been sanctioned.” 

He added, in a low voice — 

” In a very short time, God willing, 1 will take you wholly to 
myself,” and with a silent hand-clasp they parted. 

” Good day, Herr Pfarrer,” said the landlord, taking ofi his cap. 
“ Let me offer you a glass of apple-wine; nothing like apple- wine 
for giving an appetite.” 

‘‘Very willingly, Mr. Landlord; it is quite a pleasure to be 
thirsty here, since you have so many agreeable drinks. What news 
in the village to-day?” 

The landlord rubbed up a glass mug with his white apron, filled 
it with foaming cider from the cellar, and then seating himself be- 
side Dr. Jacob in tne porch, answered his question : 

‘‘For news, Herr Pfarrer, there is mighty little, except that the 
uncle of my wife lias just died, and the poor woman was so upset 
that she had much ado to finish making her cherry cake for dinner. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


110 

As we are bis only lelations, there will be a hundred florins or two, 
not to speak ot wine presses and a handsome bit of orchard for us, 
so we have determined to have him carried to the blessed God s-acre 
decently, and to pay for a good funeral sermon into the bargain. 
The pastor was here not ten minutes ago to settle with me. 

“ ‘ For fifty kreutzers, 1 do preach funeral sermons,’ he said, ‘ but 
J can’t recommend ’em for your uncle, as he was a man of impor- 
tance; for a florin, T wmuld do my duty by liim; for two florins, yoa 
should have the best sermon your heart could wish for ’ 

“ !So 1 settled for the two florins, and my conscience is easy,” 
added the rosy landlord, toying with his pipe. “Ah! Herr 
Pfarrer, one doesn’t gel a little legacy without many responsibil- 
ities!” 

Just then a man, wearing’ the livery of a telegraphic messenger, 
came up, and placed a letter in the landlord s hand. It was for Dr. 
Jacob, and with some curiosity he broke the seal. 

The dispatch ran as follows : 

“ From Herr Dr. Paulus, Frankfort, to Herr. Dr. Jacob, 
Jugenheim. 

“ 1 implore you to return to Frankfort without delay ; your credit, 
your honor, all that is dear to you, is at stake.” 


CHAPTER XXVlll. 

How should he tell Katchen? 

It seemed hard to leave her just when she so needed the strength 
of his presence; when he so needed the sunshine of hers. That 
short portentous message took all the summer from his heart— he 
felt no longer young, no longer buoyant. Brave to bear trouble as 
he had been at alTother times, his spirit sunk now beneath the 
threatened evil. Had the blow come yesterday— a few hours ago 
even —he could have borne it, and not flinched; for it would have 
hurt himself only, but now — In the first selfish moments of bis 
repining Dr. Jacob wished that Katchen were already his wife, 
already his own beyond the power of all temporary separations; 
moreover, he was but a man, and the charmed cup of pleasure had 
been raised to his lips — was it not but human that he should em- 
brace tl e unexpected blooming 31ay day ot his midwinter, ciying 
like Faust — “ Oh! stay, for thou art fair!” 

Later, his conscience reproached him tor such regrets. He 
blamed himself for having spoken of love to this fair young girl; 
he compared his own waning even-tide of life to her unclouded 
morning, and felt, in the bitterness of his self-judgment, that he 
would give his right hand to recall the deed. 

But it was done past recall. He had yielded to the temptation, 
and must submit to its consequences, sweet or bitter, as the}'^ might 
prove to him. He had called forth her love, and he could not give 
it back again. He could not summon courage, and say to her — 
Take back this sorrowful sweet gift; return to your girl’s dreams, 
and think of me as one who is dead; since I he path you have chosen 
will be bordered with thoins, and rough to your tender feet, cease 


DOCTOR JACOB. Ill 

to love me— cease to desire my love, ere both have turned your bread 
to IMtteruess unalloyed, and your tears to teai*s past consolation. 

Dr. Jacob was essentially a man ot the worlds and an adherent to 
common sense, and Crassa Minerva; looking on his recent conduct 
to Katchen, therefore, he felt keenly that he had laid himself open 
to scorn, that he had acted in a manner unbecoming his gray hairs, 
that he had “done the thing which he ought not to have done.” 
True, the remembrance ot his late interview with the baroness was 
a little salve to his conscience, for was she not beautiful, and rich, 
and devoted to him? Had he not shut his eyes to all these attrac- 
tions because duly forbade? But oh! unsophisticated human nature! 
how often in our quack-doctorings of conscience do we overlook 
the moving power of such and such an action, because the sequence 
was harmless! How often do we console ourselves for having done 
that virtuous thing, and avoided this evil thing, forgetting that the 
former tasted honey-sweet to us, and the latter of asphodel. He did 
not love the baroness, and he forsook her; he did love Katchen, 
and he cleaved to her. Neither course of action was in itself culpa- 
ble— but surely the one as well as the other was based on self-inter- 
est and self-love. 

I'en readers out of twenty perhaps will say Dr. Jacob’s declara- 
tion to Katchen was unjustifiable. But giri3 of eighteen have 
loved old men before now. There was Goethe and Bettina; Montes- 
quieu and Marie, and many other instances are in point. Besides, 
Dr. Jacob wuis no ordinary man; his noble features and stately bear- 
ing, his great conversational powers, his tender respectful ways to 
women, his sweet voice and sweeter smile, may have claimed many 
of these involuntary successes. He had never toyed with woman’s 
affections, he had never gone out of his way to win bright-eyed 
smiles, or quick stor 3 ’’-telling blushes; but they seemed his by in- 
herent right. It is a question whether they made him happier. 

To return to Dr. Jacob’s gloomy contemplations. He sat at the 
window wdth the telegram in his hajid, wondering how he should 
break the new^s to Katchen, wondering how she would hear it from 
him; Two hours intervened between the passing of the next train 
for Frankfort, and he resolved to defer the evil moment. She should 
be happy whilst she could. Now and then he caught a glimpse of 
her white dress as she fluttered bird-like in the garden shrubberies, so 
wonderingly, childi^hlj^ happy; once she Uci'ed to look up at his 
casement, and though the action was a mockery, he kissed his hand 
to her g'ayly. He loved Katchen; her confession of love had filled 
him with proud, hopeful gladness, but it was less the disappoint- 
ment of a lover than the self-reproach of an honest man, that made 
his spirit sore within him as he quailed from the sight of her now. 

By-and-by, a rush of feet and burst of voices announced the re- 
turn of the bathing party; the next proceeding would be dinner at 
the table dlwte, and unless he seized the present moment, he must 
leave Katchen without a word of farewell. A very gentle “ Kat- 
chen ” sufilced to call her under his window, and the low-voiced 
command, “ 1 liave something to say to you,” brought her into his 
presence at once. 

Dr. Jacob often recalled Katchen as he saw her then. She had 
come quickly from the garden, and the action, as w’ell as the pleas- 


112 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


lire ot obeying him, had called up a soft blush to her cheeks and a 
glad light to her eyes. There was something of humility in her look 
of gladneRs that must have been very sweet to the eyes ot any man 
—a look of perfect heart- trust and soul-surrender, a look that only 
a woman, pure from the world’s taint, can give, and giving, gives 
but once. She knew that she was beautiful in his eyes, and rejoiced 
to be so; but she wished all other eyes to pass her by. Such a look 
of love, pure and simple, of love that knows no time, of love that 
is bewildered and staggered in its new unspeakable heritage, I have 
seen idolized by the old Madonna painters ot Albert Dlirer’s school, 
and by no other. 

Her fair hair was brushed oft from the smooth straight brow and 
delicate ear, and carefully braided in a crown at the back of her 
head, giving singular purity and grace to her whole appearance; 
indeed, it was chiefly this purit}’^ that made Katchen so lovely in 
Hr. Jacob’s eyes. He had seen man}’- women tar more beautiful, 
far more dazzling, far more charming, but he had seen none whom 
his heart so reverenced, none whom he would so unwillingly have 
pained, none, above all, whom he would so unwillingly have caused 
to blush for him. 

She put a little bunch of flowers in his hands with a radiant smile. 

“ See,” she said, ” 1 have been thinking of you all the time. 
What will you say to me it 1 become so idle?” 

He took the flowers from her hands, and placed her on a chair be- 
side him without a word; then gathering from his silence and his 
face that something had happened, she cried, eagerly — 

“Oh! have 1 vexed you? Are j'^ou angiy with me? What have 
I done?” 

” My darling, you have done nothing — it is I that must vex you, 
since 1 must leave you.” 

The glow of joy died from her face, and she looked at him with 
bewildered, teartui eyes. 

” Leave me?” and she cou^d say no more. 

‘‘Will you bear it bravely, Katchen? — will you believe, through 
all, that I love you?” 

‘‘ You will soon be back again — say that you will soon be back 
again?’' 

He turned away from her pitiful, eager face, and continued — 

‘‘ 1 hope so, Katchen — 1 believe so; but if not, if things should 
happen differently, if my conduct be misconstrued — if, in short, 
you hear much evil report of me — ” 

‘‘ Oh!” she cried passionately, ‘‘ why do you speak ot such possi- 
bilities?— why do you look so sad? Do 1 not love you, and belong to 
you, wherever you may go? Be true with me and tell me all.” 

“I will be true with you. 1 will put entire reliance on your can- 
did, loving nature. Listen, Katchen; 1 am called to Frankfort, on 
affairs which 1 cannot explain to you now, but which affect mjr 
reputation. Difficulties await me there — anywhere; perhaps, even, 
my name may be held up to you as that of no true man or honest 
gentleman; perhaps it will be disgraced, Katchen: can you love me 
then? You jare my betrothed, literally my wife; but 1 make no 
avowed claim upon you, till 1 have passed through the ordeal await- 
ing me. 1 am content that we are as strangers in the eyes of the 


DOCTOR JACOB. 113 

w^ld; for your dear sake, my Katehen, I will bear my burden alone 
— but through the storm, will you believe in my entire constancy to 
you?— whilst the war is waging against me, will you keep secret 
faith with me, will you believe in me? — and if 1 conquer, Katehen, 
if 1 am enabled afterward to hold out an unsullied hand to you, will 
you take it?” 

“ 1 do not know what 3 ’’ou mean when you speak ot disgrace,” 
said Katehen, with earnest, childlike pathos, “ 1 do not understand 
how any one can say or do anything which may make your name 
less honored than it is? but 1 know and understand that if people 
could slander you, could falsity your words and actions, could make 
you appear different to what you are, and unworth}'' of the love 
and esteem that all yield to you, I should love you still the same, 
and should find my way to you, no matter where you might be, and 
never leave you again,” 

■Whilst she spoke, his face had become very sad; and now as he 
pressed her to his heart, a tear or two fell on her brow, 

“ Dear child,” he said, in a broken voice, ” would to God that 1 
were worthy of you — would to God that my soul were as white and 
my heart as pure as yours! I have done wrong in winning your 
love, Katehen, and the punishment is already coming upon me. 
Can 3 '^ou forgive my error, can you forgive the sorrow to which 1 
have already brought j'ou?” 

” Have you not brought me happiness also?” 

“ But if deeper sorrow, inconsolable sorrow comes, Katehen?” 

” 1 could bear anything so long as 1 were with you,” she said, 
quickly, 

“ God bless you, my Katehen! And now I have only one thing 
more to ask of you. Promise that, under no circumstances, you 
will suffer your faith in me to be shaken, under no circumstances , 
you will believe that 1 am failing in love and truth to you; what- 
ever else you are called on to credit with your understanding, let 
your heart grant me thus much?” 

” Yes,” she answered, simply; and no further guarantee w’as 
needed than the steadfast gaze of her blue eyes. 

But,” he continued, in a tone of the deepest sadness, ” it, think- 
ing of yourself only, and of the numerous trials this engagement 
may bring you, I come, Katehen, to say we must part for life; for 
your o\vn sake I shall say it, and hold by it. My path lies through 
dangers and difiiculties, among which, perhaps, my sense ot right 
may not allow me to lead you, you so young and so fair. You 
w’ould be very happy as the honored wife of a jmung and honored 
man. If 1 cannot bear to shut 3 mu out from a long blessed life of 
domestic love and comfort merely for my selfish love, would you. 
take this kindly of me?— would you believe that the present loss were 
worth the future gain?— would 3 mu not forgive me, and try to be 
happy in that same better way?” 

But she answered never a word, 

” Tell me how 3 ’'ou wmuld take this from me,” he repeated. 

For answer, she was kneeling and weeping at his feet, telling by 
her tears all the sweet simple story of her love, and then he knew 
that she loved him too well, that he had tried to save her in vain. 

Like Undine’s fountaiu, the latent hopes and joys of that warm 


DOCTOR ,>ACOB. 


114 

yonnGj heart were opened, never to be sealed again. She could not 
tinleurn to love him; and seldom to the heart of a lover had so sweet 
a conviction brought so sharp a pang. 

“ And now,” he said, “ 1 must go.’' 

She watched him put away her poor happy flowers in his purse 
with a scared, hopelf*ss look, but sat quite still and calm till he had 
locked his valise, and approached her; then, as a wounded bird 
flutters at the sight of the sportsman, and hides its head in blind 
terror, she turned aw^ay from him, and covered her face with her 
hands. 

“ 1 cannot bear it !” she murmured, shuddering; “ I feel as it you 
were going away, and never coming again — why, oh! why did 5 ' 0 ii 
say those cruel things to rneV” 

“ Forgive me, my darling. 1 did it but to spare you greater 
suffering by-and-by— but, through all, you must love and trust 
me.” 

For a moment he held her to his heart; then he kissed her lips, 
her brow, her w^arm w’et cheeks, her golden hair, her little hands, 
and, without a woid more, left her standing there atone. 

He did not know, when, aqnartjr of an hour later, he wended his 
solitary way to the little Bicktnbach station, that slie was near him. 
Whilst he had been taking leave of the Brills and the landlord, she 
stole out by the buck garden gate, and unseen, had gained an ele- 
vated vine 5 ’^ard path overlooking the road. Ihere, hidden among 
the interlaced vines, she watched him coming from the “Golden 
Lion,” his slow descent of the dusty slope, his final disappearance 
behind the brick- woik of the railway offices. Poor child; it was the 
only consolation within her reach. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

We must go back for a day or twm in this history, to relate what 
occurred at Frankfort in connection with Dr. Jacob. 

It is a w'arm, mist}" xYufiust morning, and Dr. Paulus sits at his 
desk, drawing up a monthly report for his society. Affairs are 
smooth in the Paulus house. J^ouisa has coughed a degree less of 
late, the children have been unusually helpful and reasonable, the 
servants have been satirized into something like sense — in toto, the 
domestic w^heels are oiled, and run lightly. Dr. Paulus is habitu- 
ally a cheerful nian, never allowing troubles to make him outwardly 
morose, bitter, or melancholy; but to-day his pen glides over the 
paper with extraordinary alacrity, and the writer’s face is com- 
placent, as if every word that he wrote thanked him for such 
service. 

By-and-by a knock, and “ a thousand pardons, Herr Doctor,” in- 
troduces the garrulous jeweler, whom we ourselves introduced to 
the reader in an early part of this story. 

“ Good-morning, Herr Schmidt,” said the doctor, cheerfully; 
“ have you sold all your prize cups, eh, and intend retiring for life? 
Come now, give me, in round fijjures, the profits of the whole 
affair to you.” 

Herr Schmidt wras a rosy, round man, with eyes that were never 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


115 


in time with his mouth, the former being sharp, Jewish, and specu- 
lative, the latter, supine, uncommercial, and conservative. He made 
use of his eyes when he bought, and of his mouth when he sold, 
giving his customers to understand that he was the easiest going man 
in the world, only desirous of small profits, by no means miserable 
it a gold watch or any other article went for half its value. All 
things considered, Herr Schmidt was a good-natured man and an 
honest tradesman, and Dr. Paulus respected him accordingly. 

“ You’re joking, Herr Doctor. 1 sold a good many brooches and 
rings to the young Freeshooters for their sweethearts, ’tis true, but 
the cups did not pay — the fact was, they were too good.” 

” Nonsense,” replied Di. Paulus, who knew better; ” you like to 
be thought a martyr, that’s all — every one does.” 

The worthy jeweler did not answer, but looked to the right and 
to the left in rather an embarrassed manner, which, added to the ex- 
pression of his eyes, led Dr. Paulus to believe that some unpleasant 
errand lay at the bottom of his visit. 

At length the secret came out. 

” 1 hope you will excuse my request, Herr Doctor; but you have 
so often helped me through difficulties with the English residents 
here, that, on the present occasion, 1 have come , to you as the first 
authority.” 

” Ha!’' said the doctor, with a roguish twinkle of the eye, “ what 
new affair has been added to the calendar of our countrymen's 
offenses? Anything very serious?” 

” Pray don’t be angry with me, Herr Doctor; 1 couldn’t help it, 
you know. If a gentleman asks my credit, I give it. Pm the more 
sorry in th’S case, as the debtor is a personal friend of yours. Don’t 
think tor one moment that 1 wmuld proceed to strong measures, or 
otherwise annoy your friends; but when any one runs up a pretty 
heavy bill, and then goes away without any hints as to coming back, 
we tradesmen are bound to take precautions— to feel the ground 
safe under our feet, in fact.” 

“Ha!” said Dr. Paulus, ‘‘you mean the English chaplain, of 
course? Oh, have a little patience — ” 

‘‘ No, no, Herr Doctor; the English chaplain may owe for butter 
and meat, but he owes nothing to me, nor is he gone away that 1 
know of. 1 am speaking of Dr. Jacob.” 

‘‘ Of whom?” cried Dr. Paulus, rising from his chair. 

‘‘Pray, Herr Doctor, excuse me: what could 1 do, you know? 
He owes me upward of two hundred florins, and they say that Frank- 
fort has seen the last of him.” 

‘‘ Then they say what is false, and you may tell them so,” an- 
sweied the doctor, somewhat recovering from the first shock. ‘‘ Dr. 
Jacob is on a visit to Jugenheim, w^hich place, as you know, is but 
a short distance from Darmstadt, and, in all probability, he will re- 
turn next week.” 

‘ ‘‘ You think that 1 need be under no uneasiness regarding my bill, 
then?” suggested the jewmler, timidly. 

Dr. Paulus considered a few minutes before answering. To him, 
debt seemed almost next to murder in its criminality, especially 
debts contracted by those who do not need to work with those who 
do need it. He had seen a great deal of this genteel swindling in 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


116 

Frankfort, whicli city, on account of its cheerfulness, and vicinity 
to Homburg, forms the optata arena of much flotsam and jetsam 
throvvn off from distant European societies. Every one who has re- 
sided long abroad,[knows how few of his countrymen he meets whom 
his soul delightetli to honor; and Dr. Paulus, more than any man, 
could bear witness to the loose principles, as to debit and credit, 
which had so often caused him to blush for the representatives of 
his adopted country. That Dr. Jacob had purchased things without 
possessing the power, much less the intention of paying for them, 
he did not for a moment believe; but be could not help censuring 
the imprudence, not to say culpable negligence, of which his friend 
had been guiltyvTn taking no notice whatever of such a debt before 
even a teniporary absence from Frankfort. 

“ Of course Dr Jacob will return, and will pay you,” answered 
Dr. Paulus, after a long cogitation. ” What do you say is the total 
amount?” 

” Two hundred florins tor antiques, trifles in jewelery, etc. You 
may look at the bill, Herr Doctor.” 

Dr. Paulus ran his eyes over the paper handed to him, more and 
more amazed at his friend’s proceeding. To a mind so methodical 
as his own, the very fact of owing for a chicken at the poulterer’s 
or for a term’s schooling at the Gymnasium, would have been 
detestable; but the idea of running up"a bill for gifts to lady-friends 
and children, or valuable trifles in the shape of rings and snuff- 
boxes, w'ss positively ludicrous. He gave back the account with a 
smile, adding — 

” Dr. Jacob is generous, and seems somewhat of a curiosity lover. 
1 can’t say, for my own part, that 1 would give thirty florins for a 
battered salt -cellar in the shape of a sea-monster; but chacun d son 
gout : if every one were of my way of thinking, you would sell no 
antiques.” 

” And have no bad debts,” said the jeweler, pathetically. 

‘‘We won’t talk of bad debts yet, dear Herr Schmidt, it you 
please. Dr. Jacob is a friend of mine, and till circumstances tell a 
very ugly story against him indeed, 1 shall consider him worthy of 
my confidence and esteem. ' ’ 

‘‘ And you think 1 may be easy in ray mind about this little bill, 
Herr Doctor?” 

“ At present 1 have every reason to think. so.” 

“ Thank you; a hundred thousand pardons for my interruption. 
Good morning, Herr Doctor,” and the jeweler bowed himself out. 

Hardly, however, had Dr. Paulus got into working order again, 
when a second visitation came, in the person of IMr. Brill. 

‘‘ Here’s a pretty business, Paulus; when will this unhappy place 
have a little peace, 1 wonder?” 

‘‘ What now? — don’t be agitated, my dear fellow. The govern- 
ment hasn’t nominated a new chaplain, has it?” 

‘‘If it did, 1 should have only myself to blame. How will it 
sound at home when such a story gets about? — of course, not to my 
credit.” 

‘‘ What story?— 1 am quite in the dark at present.” 

‘‘ In short, then, this man who has preached in my pulpit, who 


^ DOCTOK JACOB. 117 

has drawn money from my congregation, and who has been made 
welcome at my house, is. a scoundrel!” 

“ My dear Brill, ” said Dr. Paulus' deprecatingly, “ softly, softly!” 

” Softly, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Brill, excited beyond measure; 
“ the time is gone by for softness with regard to Dr. Jacob. I tell 
you he is a dishonest man, and it a dishonest man is not a scoundrel, 
my name is not Brill.” 

Dr. Paulus, being 'quite unshaken and incredulous, smiled con- 
temptuousl}^ at his friend’s sudden fit of energy; it was as good as a 
piece of first-rate acting to him, to hear Mr. Brill talking heroics 
against Dr. Jacob. 

“ It is rather unfair to condemn a man who is not able to defend 
himself,” he added, gently; ‘‘ granted that Dr. Jacob may have left 
a debt behind him, we have no proof of his inability or unwilling- 
ness to liquidate it.” 

” ] wish you were half as lenient to me when my bills came in,” 
said poor Mr. Brill, in an aggravated voice. ” 1 get into debt merely 
tor necessaries of meat, drink, and clothes; Dr. Jacob gets into debt 
for jewelry, and luxuries of every kind, which are useful to no 
man. You never excuse my debts, though I have nine children ; but 
Dr, .Tacob, who has none, seems blameless in your eyes.” 

” Tsot blameless entirely; but you would not have me call him a 
scoundrel when he can, and no doubt will, clear himself in a few 
days. Your own affairs we won’t speak of; you know that 1 do 
most stringently oppose, bill-running, and though my income is not 
larger than yours, and my family equally expensive, 1 avoid it— not 
without an effort, of course, but with great ultimate comfort in every 
way. It 1 have urged upon you the expediency of such a course, 1 
have only been actuated by a sense of kindness.” 

“True, true! I’m very grateful, I’m sure, for the many little 
helps you have given me, and would take your advice if 1 could; 
but about Dr. Jacob — my dear Paulus, he is frightfully involved; 
and the worst of it is, people say he is no more bound to the East on 
a sacred mission than 1 am.” 

” Let us have proofs from these loose talkers: of- what use tor one 
to say this, and another to say that, of Dr. Jacob, each picking up 
his little lump of dirt to throw at him? 1 want to know — where are 
the proofs?” 

” Well, certainly, proofs there are hone at present — that is to say, 
w’ith regard to the reality of his mission ; the debts themselves are 
' true enough.” 

“Debts?” 

“ Dr. Jacob owes several hundred pounds in this city. If this 
fact is not alone enough to awaken your suspicions, I think nothing 
would do so. Of course I was not made aware of these things till 
within the last day, for Dr. Jacob carried himself too much 
seigneur, and was too well received of the better classes, to excite the 
slightest suspicion. When, however, a fortnight since, he slipped 
oft quietly to the Bergstrasse, and day after day passed without tid- 
ings of him, his creditors grew naturally alarmed; some flew to the 
consul, some to me, and neither of us could give them much con- 
solation.” 

Dr. Paulus had changed countenance at the first part of this 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


118 

speech, but now he was hiiiiselt again, and tronted Mr. Brill with 
his usual untiinching eagle-like glance. His lip curled contemptu- 
ously {US he said— 

“ Dr. Jacob is but an hour’s journey distant from his enemies — 
let them seek him.” 

” No one is his enemy, Paulus, that 1 know of. 1, for one, have 
no wish to hurt his character, and should be very glad it our worst 
fe{jrs should prove unreal.” 

” Rut it seems extraordinary to me, considering the state of panic 
into which you are all throwm, that some step is not taken for every- 
one’s salisfaction in the matter. Is there any inseparable barrier be- 
tw(!en Jugenheim and Fnxnkfort, Dr. Jacob and his creditors, 
Mahomet and the mounlain?” 

“ The fact is, respectable tradesmen don’t like to put any one 
under arrest.” 

‘ Arrest!” cried Dr. Paulus, his eyes flashing fire as he spoke. 
“ If Dr. Jacob is put under arrest for such a sum, it would be a dis- 
grace to every English resident in Frankfort — and, by Heaven, it 
shall not be so, were my own chairs and tables to go to the pawn- 
broker’s for him!” 

‘‘ Oh, dear, no! 1 didn't mean exactly to say that, dear Paulus, 
for of Course people are not arrested lilt it is amply proved that they 
can’t {ind won’t pay their bills; what 1 meant to say was this — 
tr{ulespeople have a great dislike to stringent measures till they are 
absolutely necessary, and in this case they are unwilling to act un- 
pleasantly toivard Dr. Jacob, whilst any hope remains of getting 
their money without it. You know, as well as 1 do, that a shop- 
keeper often loses a debt, rather than bring a customer into publicity 
■ — the affair would give him a bad odor.” 

” What is proposed, then? Are these magnanimous creditors of 
Dr. Jacob’s to suffer matryrdom, or has some paladin stood up in 
their defense?” 

Mr. Brill moved to the edge of his chair, ruffled his hair, sipped 
a little, water that stood near, finally looked very hard at the door, 
and said — 

” 1 did think of asking you to see into this matter. As a friend, 
you could easily put the inquiry to Dr. Jacob without giving 
offense. ’ ’ 

” Whether he is a swindler, or not — eh? Such a question would 
give me. offense, 1 think. Brill, friend or no friend who put it.” 

For the life of him, Mr. Brill dared not state the ultimate purpose 
of his visit, viz., to ask Dr. Paulus to go to Jugenheim, and make 
all things clear. The latter, however, anticipated him. 

“lam not able to run down to Jugenheim to-day, nor shall 1 be 
to-morrow,” he said; ‘‘but 1 will speedily take some step toward 
cle{iriug up this mystery,” and ringing the bell, he dispatched his 
servant with the telegram already given to our readers. 

” Before sunset we shall, at least, have learned something,” added 
Dr. Paulus, cheerfully. “ For if Di. Jacob is not forthcoming, we 
may safely infer there is danger, and if he makes his appearance, 
suspicion will be already falsified. 1 would keep my own counsel 
if 1 were you. Brill, and say no word concerning the ipatter at pres- 
ent. Talking -we’ll leave to the women.” 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


119 


Mr. Brill dcpaitecl therewith, a little crestfallen under the iiuplied 
Tebuke, and quite determined to recall his wife, his Pcnihesika 
furens, to the scene of action; for, somehow or other, circumstances 
always made a fool of him when no Mrs. Brill 'was by. 

“When he had gone, Dr. Paulus lighted a cigar, and fell into deep 
thought. His faith was not shaken in his friend, but it had received 
a blow, and though he did not like to confess the feeling to himself, 
be felt uneasy. What if the worst were true? — and this mission to 
the East nothing more than a charlatan s^’r^se and subtle theft? What, 
if Dr. Jacob should have deceived all his generous supporters, both 
as to his calling and his fidelity to it? Was he really a clerk m Holy 
Orders? Whis he real'y of good birth and breeding? Was he really 
an honest man? 

Whilst but half inclined to listen to these vagaries of a frightened 
fancy. Dr. Paulus could not restrain a gnawing anxiety at heart. 
He had loved this man. He had allowed his brilliant talents and 
winning graces of manner to charm and lead him; he had fell hap- 
pier within sight of those beautiful eyes and that pleasant smile; he 
bad loved to hear that mellow voice, that cheery laugh. Couid all 
these attributes belong to a thief, a perjurer, a cunning coiner of gen- 
tle appearances, an intruder on respectable society? Was Dr, Jacob’s 
exterior dignity and virtue but as the glossy husk of the Red Sea 
apple, biding within rottenness, ashes, and vanity only? His heart 
said a thousand times, Ko. He recalled many and many an evening 
spent by Dr. Jacob among his family, when he had entered into their 
homely joys and troubles, tenderly solicitous of the invalid, fond 
and merry with the children, grave and earnest with himself, giving 
forth humane and enlightened sentiments on all subjects of discus- 
sion. 

When Dr. Paulus returned to his work, it was with the fullest 
conviction of his friend’s integrity. Perhaps his pen did not fly 
quite so rapidly as before, but the mind of the writer was made up, 
and who is not cheerful under such circumstances? To have made 
up one’s mind is certainly one of the readiest specifics for mental 
serenity. Ulysses, there can be no doubt, was a miserable man 
whilst swaying between the call of love and the voice of conscience 
on the island of Ogygia. Rosy might be the charms of Calypso, 
sylph-like her flitting form, hone3’’-svveet her whispered words— in 
vain, he knew that he ought to go, but he could not summon suffi- 
cient decision to do so, and tlie silken tetters that held him back, 
scarred liis skin beyond all spears of Troy. But w e feel (uiite as- 
sured that he slept soundly enough w'hen he had once given the 
vfOT{X—' Datoperammntus,o^m^ away.” Cal3"pso might make 
the place very hot to him when she found his matronly, homely 
Penelope was the mover of this resolution; but she could not keep 
him from feeling that he had acted like a man, and being self-com- 
placent and generally agreeable. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Though Dr. Jacob looked a little care-worn as he entered the 
Swiss Cottage, there was nothing in his appearance indicative either 
of very great anxiety or dread; he greeted his friend wdth a cordial, 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


-120 

uDshrVnkinff liand-clasp, and asked after Louisa and the children as 
if nothing had happened. Indeed, he was so perfectly at ease, /lod 
so completely his old genial self, that Dr. Paulus at once negatived 
any secret suspicion he might previously have entertained, and felt 
ashamed that such had ever been the case. 

Nothing IS more embarrassing than lor two friends to meet who 
have some explanation in hand involving the reputation of the one 
and the aflections and esteem of the other; on such occasions, it is 
better to fire straight at the enemy, for the sooner clear ground is 
made, the better. Once let matters stand still for lack of sufficient 
courage to measure swords, and little hope remains of future under- 
standing. 

Dr. Paulus felt that circumstances might vilify his conduct so as 
to divide him from Dr. Jacob more effectually than anj' intended in- 
sult could do; he therefore lost no time in explaining himself. 

“ My dear doctor,” he said, with a peculiar curl of the lip, which 
he wore when finding himself in difficult crises, “here is a pretty 
state of things! — and the worst of it is, you are not suffered to enjoy 
your holiday in quiet. Would you believe, that because you have 
left some unpaid trills behind you, all the English in Frankfort are 
prepared to dub you — chevalier d'industHe, 1 might say— I will, 
however, be more moderate and say instead, a run- away creditor. 
Write a check at once and stop such silly tongues.” 

Dr. Jacob smiled an odd smile, and replied — 

” 1 think the worthy tradespeople here must have had many deal- 
ings with run-away creditors, to be so suspicious already. Had I 
gone to St. Petersburg or America, there might have been cause for 
alarm. But the talkers have not rested at the bills. Dr. Paulus; tell 
me the rest that is said to my discredit,” 

” I would rather 3 mu should obtain further enlightenment from 
any one else, 1 assure j^ou, for to me it is painful enough to hear 
slanders of friends, much more to repeat them; simply, every one 
suspects you. ’ ’ 

” Of what?” 

” Of doing dishonorable things, of perverting to other uses the 
money obtained for jmur mission, of — but why go into all these dis- 
agreeable details? 1 know what gossip is afloat in the town, and 
what remedy best puts a stop to it. It only remains for you to deny 
all that is charged against jmu in the daily paper; your statement 
can be printed to-night, and by to-morrow morning it will be read 
in every house. ’ ’ 

“ But,” said Dr. Jacob, anxiously, “ who is for me and who is 
against me? Do you mean to say that such a justification is really 
necessary on my part?” 

” Certainly it is. If such things were said of myself to-morrow, 
1 should pursue the same course.” 

” It seems almost incredible that acquaintances, nay, friends, are 
so ready to raise the hue and cry against one; they might surely 
have waited a little.” 

Aour/?te?ic?s raise no hue and cry against you,” said Dr. Paulus, 
reproachfully. 

“Pardon me, my dear brother, if in haste. 1 spoke bitterly: 1 
know that, excepting yourself, 1 can hardly call anj-^ one a friend 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


121 


here; still, 1 did look for- something like generosity from people who 
have welcomed me to their houses, and treated me with more than 
the cordiality of mere acquaintances. Betler had they withheld their 
dinners find soirees till they could put faith m me.” 

” So is it in the woild,” mused Dr. Paulus; ” there is ever a star 
rising and falling; had nothing of this slander got abroad, your 
popularity must soon have waned. Goethe says, ‘ What does not 
charm, is dead;’ and you, in the natural order of things, will soon 
be morally dead to this fickle world of fashion.” 

” 1 have been popular,” said Dr. Jacob, slowly. ” When I came 
to Frankfort a few weeks since, 1 said to myself that 1 would gain 
power; and what 1 have gained, I do not lose without an effort. I 
wdll not be trampled under foot.” 

“ You are quite right, and 1 repeat, deny these reports, deny the 
slur on your domestic relations, on your sincerity of purpose, on your 
integrity regarding the charities intrusted to you; finally, on j'-our 
antecedents. 1 have already written a declaration for you; sign it, 
and the matter is ended.” 

‘‘You are very kind, my dear Paulus, but 1 cannot assent to such 
a course^ the publicity of it would be alike distasteful to me and to 
others — at least, to many well-wishers. Any questions you may like 
to put to me, I will answer truly; but .1 have no inclination to pub- 
. lish a refutation of absurd charges in a newspaper.” 

” There is one question 1 should like to ask you, if 1 have your 
permission,” asked Dr. Paulus, a little eagerly. 

‘‘ One and a doxen.” 

” Have you ever been married?” 

‘‘ I have.” 

‘‘ Is 5 'our wife living?” 

” She is not. ’* 

‘‘ Pardon me for the question, but so many rumors have come to 
my ears regarding your domestic relations, that 1 shall be quite glad 
to know the truth. May 1 also ask if you are about to be married 
again?” 

‘‘ 1 am, dear Paulus — at least 1 have proposed to myself such a 
happiness.” 

‘‘ 1 wish you every blessing with all my heart,” said Dr. Paulus, 
rising, and "holding out his hand; “pray, don’t let my inquisitive- 
ness appear imperlinent — 1 — ” 

‘‘ Rest quite easy on that score, my friend,” answered Dr. Jacob, 
with a warm shake of the hand; “ since the first da.y 1 knew you, 1 
have been yoUr debtor for constant kindnesses; and I should before 
have given you my confidence, had not some former occurrences 
made my first marriage a very painful subject to me. But of that, 
no more. The question now is — how am 1 to ease the minds of my 
creditors?” 

“ Pay them,” put in Dr. Paulus, very quietly. 

‘‘ But it 1 have not the money?” 

Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet. Dr. Paulus could not have 
looked more wonder-struck; he turned first red, then pale, jumped 
to his feet, sat down again, finally exclaimed — 

“ You are joking.” 

“ Not exactl 3 ^ The fact is, 1 have come with the purpose of 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


122 


confessing to you; and the summn siimmarum of my confession 
amounts to this— my remittances from England are not quite due, 
and till they are, 1 am the poorest man in Frankfort. It is nonsense 
for me to mince the matter with you; 1 am a bad financier, and 
always allow my wants to exceed my income, which unfortunate 
habit leads me into difficulties before ] am aware. Now, no one is 
more desirous of clearing oft this small heap of bills than J am, but 
I cannot do so till a few weeks are over. Of course, 1 could borrow 
— who likes borrowing? 1 will sign bills to the necessary amounts, 
and take any reasonable steps toward satisfying every one who has 
claims on me — what man can do more?” 

There was a strange underlying lightness in his manner that hurt 
Dr. Paul us, and in spite of so much evidence to the contrary, filled 
his mind with vague uneasiness. Had Dr. Jacob come to him with 
a straightforward story and a straightforward appeal — “ Lend me so 
much money till such and such a day,” he would have written a 
check for him on the spot; but he coifkl not bear this flippant tone, 
where such grave things as the reputation and honor of a clergyman 
were concerned, and liTs voice was almost stern as he replied— 

” Excuse me, if 1 think the occasion hardly a subject for jest. 
For a man of your position and talents, the very idea of being doubt- 
ed and slurred, bears odium with it, no matter who the doubters and 
sinners may be. Of course, you know best wliat needs led you to- 
incur those debts; and I do not believe that you would have incurred 
them without an actual necessity, or at least a cogent reason; still, 
my own feelings as to debt and credit are such, that 1 would make 
any sacrifice rather than keep honest, hard-working tradesmen wait- 
ing for their money.” 

Df. Jacob’s face changed; a perceptible shade -of remoi-se stole 
over his featuies — his whole attitude bespoke humility. For some 
minutes neither spoke. 

At length. Dr. Paulus, whose heart was full, approached his 
friend, and said< w’ilh a burst of bitter, honest passion — 

” Tell me before God, as man to man, as brother to brother, as 
prieetr to priest, are you dealiiie: fairly with me in this matter? — are 
you, in deed and in truth, a minister of Christ’s religion?- -are you 
a veritable missionary in His holy cause? Are you all, and no 
more, than you seem to be?” 

The two men stood face to face in the broad full sunlight of tlie 
August noonday. There, in that little study, w^ere the witnesses of 
its occupier’s hard, unremitting toil of hands and brain; there, were 
the heavy folios of Hebraistic and Latin theology, from which he 
had collected innumerable evidences to wield against the rabbis in 
argument; there— were the carefully compiled reports of the last 
fifteen years, which had been drawn up with no ordinary labor by 
his own hand; there— were the orderly letter boxes, the daily used 
Book of Praj^er, the piles of .references, and all the countless little 
testimonies of an honest, toilsome man’s daily work. 

No doubt could ever be cast on the sinceritj'^ of his mission, the 
integrity of his purpose, the whiteness of his soul. So much good 
work he had measured out for himself to do, and he rose up every 
day contentedly to do it. No vaiir desire of men’s applause, no 
craving for power, or luxury, or change — no ambition of dazzling 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


123 


the world had ever disoidered that husj', healthful, well-ordered 
mind. No blot obscuretl that escutclnion. No ghost of the past 
would rise and tell its story against him. Dr. .Jacob recalled his 
own life, which had been that of a Sybarite, and compared it with 
this wholesome Spartan one. For himself, he had tasted of pleas- 
ure, of power such as had never come within the other’s dreams; 
his lines had been cast in pleasant places, his cup had been filled 
with rich wine— yet a feeling of euv.y now crossed his mind. 

Which of the two was the happiest man? Who was the best 
Christian? Who could look back upon the best spent manhood? 
On whose grave would the spring flowers readiest blow? He stag- 
gered mentally as he drew this comparison, and, not without a strong 
eftort, brought his mind to the starting-point from which so many 
winged memories had carried it. 

“ Aie you all, and no more, than you seem to be?” 

Could he answer that question and not lie? Could he evade it, 
and not show himself unworthy? 

With working brow and pale, compressed lips, he said — 

” Who is all, and no more, than he seems to be? 1 am a minister 
of the Church, and in my youth have served her not unworthily. If 
1 have sinned, am 1 alone? If 1 have erred, where is the man who 
never took a false step? Take my hand, Paulus, lor 1 can hold it 
out to you without shame.” 

” Oh, 111 }" brother!” cried Dr. Paulus, moved as he had never be- 
fore been moved in his life, ” I, at least, have no right to judge you, 
since 1 know my own shortcomings; but since you see your errors, 
let me implore you to desist from them. Let me beg you humbly, 
and from my inmost heart, to abstain from these small deviations 
fiom duty, which mav", in time, become broad ways of destruclion. 
You are a clergyman, and, be 5 ’'ond all men, should deal fairly, set- 
ting an example of rectitude and strict integrity? lam not a rich 
man, but 1 will gladly assist you in this matter, if you assure me on 
your word of honor, that no kreulzer subscribed for your fund has 
been appropriated to other purposes.” 

Whilst speaking he had drawn back, and now he fronted Dr. .Ja- 
cob with a face of the deepest, most painful anxiety, [fe was not a 
hard man, and on the present occasion his heait was full of emo- 
tions'; but he never allowed his feelings to overcome his moial con- 
victions, and was rarely betra 5 "ed into any outward demonstrations 
of what might be passing in his breast, lie was so rigid in the per- 
formance of his own duties that he showed little pity for those who 
failed, especially when they were of his own sex and calling. But 
he had loved Dr. Jacob, and though there was sternness in his heart, 
there w^ere tears in his eyes, as he saw his friend cov^er his face with 
his hands, and heard his voice breaking under the words— 

” May God forgive me, but 1 have done this thing.” 

It was a terrible moment tor both men; terrible to the guilty one 
who spoke, terrible to the God-fearing one who heard. Perhaps in 
acuteness and suddenness of pain. Dr. Paulus suffered most, since it 
must always be worse for a hater of evil to become unexpectedly 
awaie of some lurking sin in the»friend of his heart, than for the 
offender himself; his remorse, his shame, his poignancy of ijrief, w^e 
can measure, ameliorated, as they undoubtedly are, by the innate 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


124 

degeneracy of his nature; but the other’s grief and humiliation, and 
downfall of proud afiectiou— these admit of less comprehension and 
less consoling. 

Dr. Paul us had set up his friend on so high a pinnacle, that hard- 
ly an angel’s stoiy against him 'would have been credited. True, on 
more Ilian one occasion, he had ditleied strongly with him on some 
points of ethical doctrine, but these were, after all, mere contests of 
opinion; never had he discovered in Dr. Jacob any besetting sin or 
any moral ugliness, defacing Ibe goodness and sweetness of his nat- 
ure. 

What had he just heard? This man, with his silvered locks and 
lofty presence, with his mild eyes and benevolent smile, with his 
splendid talents and gracious manner — this man now stood before 
him, seif-convicted of having perverted sacred money, of having 
virtually robbed a Christian community, of having foully disgraced 
a Holy calling! 

He groaned aloud, and tears— bitter tears— forced from the depths 
of his troubled and ashamed soul, coursed down his cheeks. The 
tears of such a man do not touch those who witness them, but they 
inspire awe, and nothing else could so keenly have impressed Dr. 
Jacob with a sense of his great forfeiture; for had he not forfeited 
all the love and esteem of that pure heart? 

At length he rose, and laying one hand on the shoulder of Dr. 
Paulus, said, calmly — 

“ There is yet atonement to be made in the eyes of man, and for- 
giveness to be obtained from God. Will j^ou be slower to relent 
than He? Believe me, the cruelest part of my punishment is the loss 
of your esteem, dear Paulus; give me your hand — tell me you are my 
friend still.” 

” God forbid that 1, a sinner, should hold myself aloof from a fel- 
low-sinner who has given me his confidence, and asked my help,’' 
answered the doctor, fervently. ” No, Dr. Jacob, however much 1 
may sorrow, and 1 do sorrow deeply, over this knowledge, it shall 
never be used hardly against you. Here is my hand. 1 give it, if 
not in the perfect brotherly love 1 gave it to you an hour ago, still 
willingly, hopefully, freely, since 1 believe that your first step will 
be toward the restitution of your error. Am 1 wrong in this convic- 
tion?” 

Dr. Jacob responded by a second grasp of the hand, and the two 
men talked long and earnestly, finally parting with more cheerful- 
ness than could have been expected from the result of such an inter- 
view. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Miss Macartney, being thoroughly nervous, unstrung, and 
wretched, had determined lo leave Frankfort when the close of the 
summer term would allow her to do so without injustice to her em- 
ployer. The course of our narrative, therefore, brings us to her last 
day in the Bleich Strasse, which last day is an important connecting 
link between her history and th^t of Dr. Jacob. 

A fortnight had now passed since the commencement of the 
summer holidays, but Fraulein Fink good-naturedly allowed Miss 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


125 

Macartney to remain under her roof till she could decide as to her 
future plans. Having found no difficulty in procuring a governess 
at this season, the worthy directress could show such kindness with- 
out hurling self interest in the matter; accordingly Miss Macartney 
was free to enjoy that unparadisiacal existence— life at school in 
holiday-time. 

It was dreary enough. At seven o’clock, a little tray, on which 
were placed a tin of coffee, a yellow cup, two or three pieces of 
sugar, aud a roll, was brought into her bedroom; the good-hearted 
housemaid would then volunteer a little gossip out of compassion, 
would pernaps tell her how she had been to the circus the night be- 
fore, aud how beautiful it was; or how Fraulein Hannchen had 
dressed in pink and white for the ball, and come home at two o’clock 
in the morning, etc,— to all of which Miss Macartney listened apathet- 
ically enough. Breakfast over, she would wander through the si- 
lent class-rooms, glad of the solitude, yet chafing against it, think- 
ing, thinking, till her brain grew giddy and her heart sick. Some- 
times she would cross the burning courtyard, and seek the welcome 
shadow of thc/garden, plucking a blossom here and there, looking 
to the right and to the left, 5'^et heeding nothing. To her, occupa- 
tion was now impossible. Whilst she worked for wages she earned 
them honestly. Now she was free; and freedom was a thousand 
times more unendurable than her former drudgery had been, since it 
left her to her thoughts. 

At dinner-time, Fraulein Fink and Hannchen joined her, both in 
Sunday dress and in high spirits, anticipating some pleasant excur- 
sion to Homburg, Wiesbaden, or Hochst. How could they sympa- 
thize with a sad face when it was holiday-time? Miss Macartney 
did not blame them, but she wondered if they read of any sorrow in 
her he:irt, and she thought that in their places she should have acted 
differently. 

Then came the long, drowsy, murmuring summer afternoon; the 
happy pipings of birds, the heavy incense of flowers, the golden 
glow of ripening fruit, the purple far off Taunus hills — how could 
these be lovely to her in her isolation and despair? How could she 
love Nature when her heart was bitter toward man? All these golden 
hours of sunset she would spend in the veranda of the refectory, 
aimless, idle, alike without fear and without hope. 

After long hours of indecision, she resolved to go back to Eng- 
land, where she still had friends, and the da}^ before starting was 
filled up with necessary preparations. Having packed her trunk ahd 
prepared her travel ing'bag, she put on her bonnet in order to make 
one 01 t\\o farewell calls upon the parents of favorite pupils. On en- 
tering the zeil, she slopped at the shop of Herr Schmidt, the jeweler, 
and after a minute’s hesitation, entered. 

“ I called,” she said, falteringly, “ in order to repurchase a little 
ring 1 sold to you some months since; then 1 wanted the money, 
but now i am in circumstances to present myself wdtli it.” 

The ring was described and looked tor, but to no purpose; at 
length, after some parley between master aud assistant, the former 
said— - 

” 1 fear, madam, that you have come too late. 1 distinctly re- 


126 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


member selling such a ring, with the initial E, to a gentleman in 
the beginning of last month.” 

jMiss Macartney’s lips trembled. 

” It was tUe only relic 1 had of some one who is dead to me,” she 
said, drawing down her veil, and turned away as if to go. 

” Perhaps'it can yet be reclaimed for you; the gentleman is well 
known to me, and might be induced to change it,” exclaimed the 
jeweler, kindly and cheerfully, for his heart had just received com- 
tort from the wmids of Dr. Paul us; ” his name is Doctor Jacob, and 
he will be in Frankfort shortly.” 

Miss Macartney bowed, thanked him, and left the shop. She had 
resolved to go to England, believing the worst of Dr. Jacob, over- 
whelmed witn shame at his course of action. Of his proposed mar- 
riage with the baroness she had heard but little, and indeed the 
baie statement cairied so much contradiction wdth it, that very few 
English residents gave credence to such a story. Of his debts, she 
had heard enough to make her passionately desirous lor flight. He 
was lost to honor, to herself, to the place that was his in tlie world 
by right; had he sought her and remained with her, she would have 
clung to him through all the sorrow, all the disgrace; as it was, they 
were irrevocably divided; there w'as nothing left for her but to go. 

Her heart softened when she learned that he had bought her ring. 
It was a gift from him on a summer birthday 3'ears ago; she well 
remembered both the giving and the da^^; then she was a girl, with 
a girl’s rosy smile and lightsome laugh, with a girl’s happy e^xs and 
harmless foolish di earns. He had come out to the garden and put it 
on her finger with a birthday wish, and she had kissed it for his dear 
sake. 

Why wmuld those thoughts come back to her? W^as not the 
blithesome, bright-eyed girl virtually dead? Was not the affection 
which had once made his gift so priceless, dead also — dead beyond 
any hope of resuriection? All that had been innocent, and happy, 
and hopeful in her life was past: what remained for her but to drift 
like a withered leaf to that sea whence no waif is drifted back! 

M idi tears still streaming down her cheeks, she took her w’aj'" to- 
M^ard the residence of Dr. Paulus. She had purchased a farewell 
gift for Constance, and wished to thank her parents for man}' small 
kindnesses. 

It was about that hour of the day when the. intense noontide heat 
begins to wane, and the thick dusty leaves twitter again with songs 
of birds. As Miss Macartney entered upon the sweet-scented Fried- 
h6f, or old cemetery garden, and felt the cool shadows of the aca- 
cias, her heart stilled a little from its emotion, and she felt that the 
world was pleasant. Perhaps theie is no surer sedative to a troubled 
spirit than the calm, cool fragrance of a garden, especially a garden 
that is brightly colored with flowers, and has undulating shades and 
winciings about it. In the old Friedhof, or “Place of Peace,” 
whither we follow Miss Macartne}’’, nothing of the graveyard re- 
mains, beyond quaint tombstones rising here and there from shrub- 
beries of laurel and hone3^suckle; but so moss-grown, so old-world 
are they, that 3'ou look upon them much with the feelings of Ste- 
phenson amid the sculptured sarcophagi of Copan. 

Miss Macartney found her eyes drawn instinctively toward one of 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


127 


these strange monuments. It was a heavy cross of stone, black wit^ 
age, sacred in many places, and, by force of its weight, slanti- 
gradually toward the ground. An angel in bas-relief, and two I' 
of epitaph, in old German characters, to this effect, were engn 
upon it: 

“Oh! ye who love the world and those in it, love no more, s, 
all that 1 loved is lost, and what should 1 do now had I no Christ 

There was something in these words that appealed to her feelin^ 
strongly. 8he felt so utterly alone, so sadly in need of some stronge 
faith than that by which her past life had been guided. TIere was 
the record of a bruised heart and a blighted life, both of wdiich had 
been healed and freshened by religious trust— could not such trust 
reach her also? could she not strelcli out her hand in the dark, and 
yet touch the hem of the Saviour’s garment? Her thoughts grew 
calmer and clearer as she recalled early teaching and early prayer; 
the balmy air, the peaceful garden with its bright flowers and gray 
graves, tlie under -toned pipings of birds, the far-off murmur of the 
city, soothed her, as prayer had seldom done. Yes, there was a God 
to befriend her, and to give her something, more than repose, when 
life and its troubles were over. She would learn to wait in patience 
and in hope. 

AYhilst the current of her idea was thus seeking a new and 
clearer channel, the gate of the Friedhof clicked, and Dr. Jacob 
entered. Fr( m the Zeii to the residj nee of Dr. Paulus, there was 
no shorter or pleasanter way than by the cemetery garden; and na 
quieter, which latter reason, perhaps, led him there on this occa- 
sion. Sauntering along, half from the grave thoughts and anxieties 
of his mind. Dr. Jacob’s step fell noiseless on the smooth turf, and 
before either of them was aware, they stood face to face. 


CHAPTER XXXI 1. 

The baroness received the intelligence of Dr. Jacob’s abrupt de- 
parture with mixed feelings of self-reproach and dismay. She con- 
fessed to herself —and the confession was a veiy bitter one— that she 
had played her game badly. Only a few weeks since, every chance 
had been in her favor; she had seen a day on which Dr. Jacob and 
herself were both free, yet they were now divided without hope of 
reunion. 

She did not doubt that Miss Macartney was the cause of Dr. 
Jacob’s return to Frankfort. Of his circumstances she knew but 
little, and her n.arried experiences with regard to debts, loans, and 
usuries, made her very leckless on the subject of mone} at all times; 
that money matters, therefore, were in any way concerned with this 
sudden movement, never once entered her head, otherwise she might 
easier liave taken courage. 

Her first impulse was to seek Mrs. Brill, to discover, if possible, 
some clew by which her future course of action should be governed. 
The baroness, as you will perceive, had great energy of purpose, and 
though foiled in this her dearest dream, was by no means disposed 
to give up Jill hope. She would have surrendered a third of her fort- 
une to see Dr. Jacob at her feet. Is it possible that my readers 


128 DOCTOR JACOB. 

1on’t sympatliize witR her? If she loved unwisely, at least she 
ved too well— and love had come little within her experiences 
">erto. 

My dear Mrs. Brill,” she began, with a well-feigned indifler- 
e, ‘‘1 am quite disturbed about our friend. Dr, Jacob — what 
have taken him away so suddenly?” 

Mrs. Brill smiled, looked wise, finally said, bluntly— 

“ Truth will out sooner or later, and no one would accuse me, 1 
hink, of wishing lo hurt Dr. Jacob’s character. The fact is, 
Madame de Ladenburg, his affairs are in a very unsaiisfactoiy state. 

I I hear of debts, etc., etc.” 

> ” Ahi” answered the baroness, 

^ Yes, debts, 1 suspect, and nothing else, have robbed us of our 
friend. Tell me, dear madame, who and what are his friends— will 
the}^ come to his aid?” 

“ I assure you, 1 know nothing of Dr. Jacob’s friends.” 

“ Then Heaven help the poor man — for the tradespeople of Frar^- 
fort have been at so much loss lately through unprincipled English 
that 1 fear they will have very little patience with him.” 

“ What will they do?” ^ 

” What will they do?” said Mrs. Brill, laughing pleasantly; “ ar- 
rest him, to be sure, my dear friend. Poor Tom would help him if 
he could, but nine children are hindrances to that sort of friendli- 
ness; Dr. Paulus may come forward as a friend in need, though 1 
suspect he is far too prudent to do so. If nobody brings the poor 
dog a bone, why, the poor dog has none; in other words, if Dr. 
Jacob’s friends cannot satisfy his creditors, his creditors will take 
the onl}’- measures in their power of satisfying themselves.” 

A new light was gradually breaking upon the mind of the baron- 
ess. As the difficulties besetting Dr. Jacob’s path became clearer 
and clearer, she gleaned from them something like hope for herself. 
The very word arrest sounded sweet in her ears, since it might re- 
place in her hands one chance of the mauy she had lately lost. If 
things came to the worst, it he were really seized by the servants of 
the law, would he not gladly accept money of her, rather than incur 
the disgrace of a debtor’s prison? She knew his proud nature; she 
had seen how haughty he could be on occasions; could he bear to 
be put to shame in the eyes of all men? he, a clergyman and a gen- 
tleman! No, no, ten times sooner would he su&r himself to be- 
come her debtor; ten times soonei would he lake her outstretched 
hand. The hope of such a triumph brought sudden brightness to 
her face, and sudden joy to her heart. Without wishing to betray 
herself, she tried in vain to conceal her eagerness — 

“ Dear Mrs. Brill,” she said, hurriedly, “ Dr. Jacob is a valued 
friend of mine, and 1 shall rejoice to aid him if the occasion arise; 
indeed, I cannot let him be put to any inconvenience whilst the 
money of which he stands in need is in my hands. But such offices 
of kindness coming from a lady to a gentlemen are very easily mis- 
understood and misjudged; and to bring my own name into disre- 
pute would alike hurt both of us. You must know, my dear ]\lrs. 
Brill, that any feeling beyond that of friendship would be absurd 
between Dr. Jacob and myself.” 


DOCTOIl JACOiJ. 129 

Of course," said Mrs. Brill, sruilin^ assentingly, though her 
mind misgave her on the subject. 

“ Of course," added the baroness, smiling also; " and therefore 1 
must act with circumspection. Only Mr. Brill and we two shall be 
•cognizant of the matter." 

" Certainly — if you wish it." 

" 1 do wish it earnestly. It is just possible that Dr. Jacob might 
refuse any such offers from me at the onset, and Mr. Brill ought 
therefore to be trained in our tactics. May 1 write to him — or may 
1 ask you to write to him?" 

'* Willingly," replied Mrs. Brill, rising to fetch her writing-desk. 
" I only wish poor Tom had so kind a friend when the quarterly 
bills pour in.” 

At which the baroness looked sympathetic, murmured something 
about feeling the warmest interest in her friend’s husband, and her 
willingness to prove it by actual service — then dived heait and soul 
into the matter of the letter. 

Mr. Brill must have been dull indeed, did be tail to perceive that, 
like the lover in the Norse tale, a very siecp glass hill intervened be- 
tween him and his golden apple. As subtle sentence after sentence 
flowed from her pen, dictated by the baroness, the good wife 
groaned in secret over-Tom’s perspective dismay. 

" 1 hope Tom may fulfill your commission to your satisfaction," 
she said, when the letter was brought to an end; ‘‘but 1 would 
rather have done it myself, indeed 1 would— men are so unbusiness- 
like." 

" How can he possibly mistake my meaning?" exclaimed the 
baroness petulantly. "The money is placed at his disposal, and 
he has only to act warily, that is to say, without at first exciting Dr. 
Jacob’s suspicions. Voildiout."' 

And the letter was sent. 

Leaving the baroness to her reflections, we will now return to 
some other members of our Jugenheim circle. 

Mrs. Brill, as may have been already seen, concerned herself very 
little about Dr. Jacob’s absence and the cause of it. Happily, she 
. possessed that even temperament recommended by Horace to his 
friend Delius, which receives all chances and changes of this mortal 
life with tranquillity. Baron Josef rejoiced in his heart of hearts at 
the unexpected removal of so formidable a barrier between himself 
. and Katchen; for Katchen was still fairer in his eyes than theco- 
i quettish Aggie. Indeed, Aggie already began to lose her freshness 
of charm, whilst Katchen, from having always held aloof, grew 
lovelier and more bewitching every day. 

And Katchen! 

For her, there was no longer any greenness, of wood, or fairness 
I of vineyard, or music of mill-wheels. Though she felt happy be- 
! yond measure in the proud consciousness of Dr. Jacob’s love, even 
I that happiness was all 03 ^ed with pain. He loved her, and she trem- 
; bled and wept alternately. It he should be ill? If he should die? 

I If he should ever love her less? Such misgivings would arise in her 
mind, only to be stilled by simple prayers. 

On the second morning after his departure, she received a letter 
from him. Half in the hope of it, she had lingered within earshot 

5 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


130 

of the front door, in order to meet the postman. He smiled at her 
eagerness, made a pretty speech about love-letters in general, and 
declared that he wished for no better task than to make her blush 
every day; but without heeding him, she hid herself in the garden. 
In tier delight and excitement, she had not observed Baron Josef, 
who stood idling at an open window. But he saw the color mount 
to her cheeks, and the light to her eyes, as she took the letter; he 
saw her glide into the shrubbery, fluttering with shy happiness, and 
naturally he formed his own conclusions. 

“ Whew!” 

A long whistle was followed by a longer oath; then, stealing in 
her track, he gained her hiding place unobserved. If Baron Josef 
had never before deemed Katchen lovely, the revelation must have 
dawned upon him then. 

She sat under an overhanging acacia, the light foliage throwing 
sprays of shadow on her white dress and fair face, the golden sun- 
shine adding fresh brightness to her hair, the pure green leafage 
making her delicate skin look more delicate still. Her head was 
bent eagerly qyer her lap, on which lay the open letter, and both 
hands were hidden in the loosened locks that fell under her straw 
hat. Baron Josef, as we have before indicated, had no soul for the 
best and highest degree of beauty; but he saw that Katchen looked 
prettier than ever, he felt that she was further from him than ever, 
and, with a dissolute man’s recklessness, he resolved to recompense 
himself for his loss in the only way that he could. 

Before she perceived him, he had seized the letter from its resting- 
place; then waving it high over her head, he cried, half in jest, half 
in earnest — 

” Mein Praulein, you have been very cruel to me, and 1 cannot 
refrain from revenging myself. This letter remains intact in my 
hands, bul it remains till you claim it by some suitable reward.” 

As first Katchen hardly understood either his action or his words. 
Her color went and came, her bosom heaved, she tried to speak, 
and failed. At length she rose, and stretched out her hands toward 
her treasure. 

“ How dare you?” she cried, between half-stifled sobs; “ are you 
not ashamed of such meanness?” 

” Do not take my harmless joke a^i serieux,'' answered Baron 
Josef, with mock humility. ” If you choose to look divine, i can- 
not help growing desperate; and, as 1 have before said, the letter is 
yours for a small reward — a very small reward, indeed.” 

She would not pretend to understand his meaning, and turned her 
back upon him in childish scorn; it amused him to see her angry — 
he admired her far more in anger than in meekness; moieover,~he 
liked at all times to play a reckless game which had for its end the 
kiss of a beautiful woman. 

Will you not purchase your letter so — will you not let me kiss 
you?” he whispered, coming closer to her. 

Katchen shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. 

“ Only^ one kiss on your hand to set against that priceless letter?” 

“Never!” 

“ Not if 1 chose to read it by way of vengeance? Bemember, 
Katchen, that 1 have no kind recollections to soften my heart toward 


DOCTOR JACOB. 131 

you. I have loved you distractedly, and you have shunned me as 
you would shun a gorilla. If 1 growl, whose fault is it?” 

"With one hand he held both her own fast, and with the other 
raised the letter as if to read its contents; in spite of her efforts at 
self-control, Katchen screamed and turned pale. 

“ Is it from some clandesiine lover — yes or no? 1 feel naturally 
interested in the matter, as you are still in some sort my betrothed; 
for notwithstanding Mr. Brill’s veto, mamma and i shall win the 
day, Katchen. Without Dr. Jacob to back Mrs. Brill, we shall win 
the day; do you listen to me? Try to care for me, for 1 will make 
you very happy as m}^ little wife—” 

“ I will die rather than marry you,” cried Katchen, with some- 
thing of her old courage returning. ” If you knew how 1 disliked 
you, you would never come near me again.” 

‘‘T love you, Katchen, indeed 1 do, and I’m not so bad-hearted 
after all. Here is your letter, and since you will not pay me for it, 
1 must needs pay myself.” ^ 

She would have broken from him, but he seized her hand and 
kissed it several times. Too frightened and shaken to struggle, 
Katchen submitted unresistingly to the affront, and when he released 
her, sunk trembliDg on the bank. Perhaps Baron Josef felt a little 
abashed then; anyhow, his face changed in expression, and his voice 
had a shade of contrition in it as he said — 

“ Are you angry with me?” 

” Angry?” 

The word died half unsaid on her lips; covering her face with her' 
hands she wept unrestrainedly, forgetting her recovered letter, for- 
getting his hated presence even, in her sname. Baron Josef alone 
was to .blame, no one had been near to witness his conduct, still she 
could not divest herself of the idea that Dr. Jacob would henceforth 
love her less. She must tell him; for was it not her duty to tell him 
everything? What would he think of her? She belonged to him, 
to him only, and Baron Josef, of all other unworthy men, had dared 
to touch her hand with his lips. 

“ Are you angry with me?” reiterated Baron Josef, in still milder 
tones. 

“Go away,” she murmured, brokenly; “do not speak to me 
again.” 

“ When you grow calmer, you won’t feel so bitter to me, Kalch- 
en. Remember how you have maddened me by your coldness, and 
how 1 have hitherto controlled my feeling for your sake. But you 
looked so ])retly in your anger, 1 could not help myself— on my soul, 
1 could not! It in a hasty moment I steal a kiss, do 1 commit a 
crime? Good Heavens! I wish there were no pretty faces in the 
world, since the ugly ones never get a man into trouble!” 

“ Please go,’’ said Katchen, entreatingly. “ If you sta}^ 1 shall 
only make you more angry.” 

“ One little word of forgiveness, and 1 will vanish like Mephis- 
topheles in Faust.” 

But Katchen said no word. 

“Just look up. and show me that your eyes are dry. I cannot 
bear to see a woman crying.” 

She looked up, and Baron Josef, who had a sort of humanity 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


132 

somewhere, strolled back to the house, wishing Katchen were kind, 
wishing dinner were ready, wisiiirig a hundred things, possible and 
impossible, after the manner ot idlers. 


chapter XXXIll. 

No sooner bad Baron Josef gone than Katchen drew a long breath 
of relief, and collecting all her scatlfTed powers of tliinldng, tried to 
devise some means by which slie might heuceloith avoid him. Bhe 
did not recommence her letter at once, but kissed it, and pressed it 
again and again to hei heart, with a vague sense of the comfort and 
happiness (contained in eveiy word. Whilst Baron Josef’s hated 
kiss was still fresh on her hand, and the impress of his clasp still 
visible on her wrists, she felt unfit to commune with Dr. Jacob’s 
good and beautiful aftection. As the wild Kaffir tiibes deem their 
altars defiled if only an infidel’s shadow fall on them, so Katchen, 
having once ^promised herself unto the man she loved, could not 
brook a look, much less a word, of love from another. Some women, 
but not those whom we would make mistresses of our hearths and 
mothers of our children, can be true to their Dl3"sses, yet receive the 
suitors with a smile. To Katchen love was as a second religion. 

At length, with her bright lips parted, and her long hair falling 
over the page, she began to read her first love-letter. Her first love- 
letter! 

Dr. Jacob’s letter to Katchen w’as tender and true, and told her 
all the love of the writer’s heart; but as she read on, an indefinite 
underlying anxiety betra^^ed itself, that grew deeper and deeper with 
eveiy word. 

A little bird lighted on a branch near, and Katchen raised her 
head to hear its song. She knew that the letter had some secret to 
tell her, some secret wdiich would biing pain, perhaps parting, and 
she was not brave enough to learn it yet. J'he sweet tenderness of 
his opening words had flooded her heart with joy; she felt so tri- 
umphant in his fondness, so sure of his loyally, she must be happy 
for a little while. Tliere was no sound but the far-ofi stroke of a 
woodman’s ax, and the tiill of the bird overhead; all was still dewy 
shadow and repose. The day and its sorrows had hardly begun. 

Two or three minutes passed, and tfie little bird’s song was over. 
She saw it droop its head, as if with sudden weariness or pain, then 
fly straight and swift into the densest part of the wood, and the great 
heart of the summer seemed saddened for a while. 

Katchen again took up her letter, and read to the end. This time 
she did not linger over every loving word, and fix it in her memory 
before readiug'lhe next; she felt that she could not bear such terrible 
suspense any longer, and with wmnderful effort, she controlled her- 
self till the meaning of the letter was told. 

And it was separation. Not separation for weeks, or for months, 
or for years, but separation without hope of reunion, separation 
without limit of time — separation for life. 

At first Katchen was too stunned to estimate the full misery im- 
plied by such a word. She was too young, too sanguine, too guile- 
less, to imagine any circumstances that could come like insupeiable 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


133 


barrieis between herself and Dr. Jacob. He si>oke of error and 
selfishness on his part; he blamed himself severely for having sought 
to obiain her atleciions; he asked her pardon tor known and un- 
known oftenses, in the way that a lather might do to a child he had 
injured. No wmnder Kjitchen laved him betler, set him still higher 
in her esteem and honor as she read these things— no wonder she 
saw in them self den3nng goodness and high-souled tenderness only. 
For lier sake, he had lesolvcd to sacrifice her love; for his, she 
resolved to cling to him still closer. 

'When she read the words “disgrace,” “dishonor,” “sin,” she 
understood them in no wise as they were meant. Dr. Jacob wished 
to prepare her for the vvorst. He knew how much more wmuld be 
said of him than the naked truth, and he knew that the naked truth 
alone was enough to break her heart. But he had worded his halt 
confession with such marvelous tenderness that Katchen must have 
been less than a woman .had she not loved him ten-lo'd more tor it, 
and by drawing his own sacrifice in such strong colors, he but in- 
sured her greater trust and fcTvency. JJe laid betore her the extent 
of his error in asking her to become his wife, followed out the prob- 
able effects of so unequal a marriage, pictured the bitter self-reproach 
he should incur b}’’ robbing her of a fairer home and worthier pro- 
tector. Then he spoke ot his owm desolate life, and told Ik r simply 
and pathetically how her sw’eet affection had promised to brighten it. 
In a celebrated picture of our own time, the artist has delineated 
war under its darkest aspect. The ruin and despair, the devastation 
of hearth and home and altar, are seen clearly, as in a vision. The 
individual woe and sufteriug seem to shiiek in your ears. The 
chaos of all that was once beautiful, and earth-like , and happy, 
wearies your eyes as if with sharp pain. But in the wu’ndow of a 
falling cottage, speaking of summer days, and 3^oung voices, and 
pure thoughts, is a rose, fresh, blooming, full ot fragrant life. 

Dr, Jacob might have had this picture in mind when comparing 
his own existence and nature to those of Katchen. But he had used 
his eloquence in vain. Every wmrd that adJed to the mass of self- 
condemnatory evidence, pro\W him more guiltless in heroyes; he 
had not spared himself in order to save her, and to save her from 
wdiat? Perhaps from the taunts of the world, perhaps from some 
deep anxieties — perhaps even from disgrace; would not all these be 
as nothing to her, if borne by his side? 

Long and earnestly she sat under the acacia tree, trying to evolve 
out ot her owm trustfulness and love some consolatfon under this 
heavy unexpected trouble, trying to devise some way by which that 
trusi fulness and love should best console him, trying to look hope- 
fully into the future; above all, trying to believe that there would 
be no parting. 

She resolved to write to him at once, and say, in her own pool 
simple words, how her heart must break if he left her; and some- 
what cheered by this rcjsolution, she returned to the house. Many 
tears fell over that little letter; many prayers and hopes accom- 
panied it on Its way. Like the lamp ot the Hindoo maiden, it was sent 
forth on a sea of unc(!rtainty, and the fate of it would bring joy or 
despair to the sender. 


134 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


Hardly bad the letter been sealed, when Mrs. Brill broke in upon 
her solitude, with a pleasant smile and a merry— 

“ My dear Katchen, I’ve such a piece of good news to tell youl” 

“ Good news for me?’ 

“ Yes, child, you are looking just now as dismal as Gretcheu in 
the play, and anything lively may be acceptable. Well, Katchen, 1 
have just heard from your Russian 'ph'e adoptif, who is by no means 
aversQ to Baron Josef as your husband; and who, moreover, has 
now come to something definite with regard to you. Of course, 
had Baron Josef chosen Aggie, we should have been equally de- 
lighted; but as Baroness Ladenburg, you will be able to introduce 
the poor ffirl, and find her a good husband one day — ” 

" 1 cannot marry Baron Josef,” said Katchen, calmly. 

” And why not?” 

” 1 hate him, and he knows it.” 

” That is mere child’s play between you and him,” Mrs. Brill 
continued, unruftled; ” if you have quarreled a little before marriage, 
you are sure to live in harmony ever after; and from what I liave 
seen of Baron Josef, 1 believe him to be exceedingly good-tempered.” 

” Oh, Mrs. Brill!” pleaded Katchen, with tears in her eyas; ” do, 
for pity’s sake, be serious with me. Again and again, I say 1 will 
never marry Baron Josef; to whom else can I look for help it not to 
you? — and if you love me, you will do all in youi power to prevent 
this matter from going any further. 1 am not the child 1 was — 1 
believe 1 shall do something desperate and wrong, it you drive me 
against my will — ” 

“ My dear girl, 1 would not have you unhappy for the world ; but 
it is only in novels that young ladies say they will never marry 
Baron Josef or baron anybody else. Every woman marries the man 
she wouldn’t ham had for the woiid—iio rule in algebra is surer. 
When 1 w'as a girl, 1 declared that nothing should induce me to 
marry a meek parson— didn’t I marry the meekest of parsons, and 
w^oul'd 1 change my Tom for any other husband in the world? No, 
no— my dear, the man who proposes to a woman is the one she 
marries; and the one, in nine cases out of ten, best suited to her.” 

Katchen burst into tears. 

” If you knew how unhappy 1 am, you would not speak so lightly 
to me,” she said, with some bitterness; ” I will appeal to Mr. Brill; 
he at least cannot have the heart to force my wishes— he is fond of 
me— be is fond of Mm—’ 

” Of whom— Baron Josef?” asked Mrs. Brill, with surprise; ” I 
think you are in error, Katchen.” 

She blushed and answered hesitatingly, 

‘‘ 1 did not mean Baron Josef — 1 forgot what 1 was saying.” 

” Tom loves you dearly; so do 1,” continued Mrs. Brill. ” I’m 
sure you have been like a daughter to both of us, darling, and 1 
only w'ish our Harry were old enough to be your husband— but this 
mariiage w’ith Baron Josef would really be so advantageous in every 

Here a message from the baroness interrupted the dialogue, which 
was not continued that day. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


135 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

After the before- mentioned inteiview which took place between 
Dr. Jacob and Dr. Paulus, Dr. Paulus set about a systematic 
arrangement of his friend’s affairs, in order to give him an oppor- 
tunity of clearing himself, both with regard to his debts and his 
fraud. The last word caused a deep shudder to run through the 
muscular frame of Dr. Paulus. He hesitated more than once as to 
the expediency and rectitude of one minister cloaking the sin of an- 
other — yet had not an erring brother confessed to him, throwing 
himself upon his love and Christian charity? Could he assume the 
rioiit which belonged to Oue only, and condemn him straightway? 
Did not Christ himself command forgiveness, yea even, if the offense 
were committed seven times seven? Serious thought and earnest 
prayer left him tender toward Dr. Jacob, and he resolved to stand 
by him so long as he testified a penitent and deeply humbled 
spirit. 

Accordingl}’-, he lost no time in calling upon those creditors who 
had the most urgent claims, and by a simple adherence to truth, 
putting their minds at ease. He knew that Dr. Jacob had still a 
large sum in his hands, the remainder of a bounty collected foi his 
mission, and he had his word of honor that no kreulzer of it should 
go toward any other purpose. He knew now also that his friend’s 
income was small, and that speedy payments were impossible; but 
his own faith was still large, and like the leaven which leaveneth 
the wijole lump, it diffused itself over the hearts of others. 

“ Dr. Jacob does not seek to hide his difiiculties,” he said, “ but 
he has means of overcoming them, it you will give him time. Were 
1 a rich man, I would gladly relieve youi fears; but I can only say, 
— what 1 should not say inconsiderately, — ‘ Have patience with him, 
and he will pay you all.’ ” 

It was a curious fact, and one not likely to escape the observation 
of Dr Paulus, that of all Dr. Jacob’s admirers, the richest and most 
influential deserted him now, whilst the poorer and humbler clung 
to him with renewed interest and affection. The Wood clique prided 
themselves upon passing him without a bow on the Zeil, and on ex- 
cepting him from a dinner; but those homely little folks w^ho had 
hitherto only dared to invite him once or twice, and then with a 
feeling of shame at their simple hospitality, now vied with each 
other in sympathy. 

Dr. Paulas, as w^e have seen, bent no knee to the golden calf, and 
more than one cynical remark this contrast drew from him. lie 
witnessed silently, but with inward contempt, the adulation and 
homage which had been paid to Dr. Jacob on his first coming to 
Frankfort; he had often prophesied to himself a reaction. The 
reaction had come in earnest. 

Dr. Jacob seemed less hurt by the coldness of the one class than 
touched by the devotion of the other. With so many harassing anx- 
ieties on his mind, he could not afford to bewail trifles, and it was 
not in his nature to bewail at ail. He made the least of all mere 


136 


BOOTOK JACOB. 

cares. He could forget his debts; but he thought every day and 
every hour of Katchen in her sadness. 

Wotully did he regret that summer day on which he had wooed 
and won Katchen Eggers. He scourged himself with the sharpest 
self reproaches, he tasted the bitterness of remorse in every naorsel 
of bread, in every drop of wine. For himself, he could have borne 
all the dreary yearning after a lost love, all the sorrow of it, but he 
shrunk from inflicting suffering on her. Yet was it not better that 
she should weep tor one day, rather than for long years? Was he 
not cruel only to be kind, in speaking the doom of separation? Was 
he not shielding her from evils of which she knew nothing— dis- 
grace— dishonor? 

He quailed before those terrible words, and to write them to one 
so pure, so fair, so loving, hurt him more than any scorn of man 
could have done. Indeed, the writing of that farewell letter in- 
volved the sharpest pain of his life’s experiences; he knew how she 
would hope for it, exult over it, and hide it in her little eager hands; 
he knew how her blue eyes would dance with joy as she began it, 
and how they would grow weary with weeping before the end had 
come. Yet he felt lighter of heart when he had told her all. For 
she was saved, and henceWth no sorrow could hurt him. 

The next day, amongst other letters, came two, which he read over 
twice, and with deep interest. The first was from Katchen, and 
its contents have been already suggested; the second from some of 
his principal creditors, and ran as follows: — 

“ Frankfort-on-thk-M., 

" Sept. 8th, 18&-. 

“Most honobed Sib, — We beg to inform you that, having be- 
fore suffered heavy pecuniary loss from bad debts incurred by non- 
residents of this city, we shall be under the disagreeable necessity 
of resorting to such protection as the law aftcds us, unless our ac- 
count be settled within ten days from the present time. 

“We have the honor to remain, 

“ Your obliged servants, 

“ Kbauter & Co.” 

Dr. Jacob’s face darkened as he read. Only two days since Dr. 
Paulus had been assured by Herr Krauter himself that he was con- 
tent to wait a little for his money, that he by no means wished to 
inconvenience his debtor, etc. In the face of these asseverations 
came an insolent letter, and a threat of arrest. Who was the mover 
of both? Krauter himself was a mild man, rather inclined to 
miserline.ss. but by no means inclined to hostile measures; some 
enemy had incited this step, and, whoever he might be, this enemy 
should be foiled. Dr. Jacob was proud, and even in his fall would 
allow no foot to tread upon him. To the last he would be himself. 

But a debtors’ prison ! 

The words sounded more terrible to him than they would do to 
most men, for he was essentially a Sybarite, loving luxurious rooms, 
costly wines, delicate meats, expensive liberalities, and refined 
pleasures. It was, moreover, not so much the contempt of 
others as self-abasement that he dreaded — less objective than 


DOCTOli JACOB. 


137 

subjective de^?radation that made a prison so formidable to him. 
Except as he shrunk from the contemplation of Katcheu’s sorrow, 
and that of one other, he cared little what the W'orld w’^ould say or 
think of him. lint he did abhor solitude, coarse living, homely sur- 
roundings, and personal restrain"; and he despised human nature 
too much to feel respect for human law. The loss of friends, of 
peace of mind, of position, he accepted as from God, and the 
sequence of his errors; but he was very unwilling to suftei at the 
hands of men. 

For hours he paced his costly apartment in the deepest thought, 
his head bowed, his hands clasped listlessly behind him, his grand 
figure bent. Once or twice, visions of happiness would flash across 
his mind, making him for the moment young, strong, and hopeful; 
through all, and in spite of all, he w^ould cling to Katchen, and hide 
himself with her for one short sweet day of luve. His life had been 
reckless, and far from immaculate hitherto, in so tar as the laws of 
society w'ere concerned; he had lived far too much in the world for 
his dignity as a minister of religion; he had acted carelessly, repre- 
hensibly, with regard to money; he had squandered where he 
should have been miserly, had harvested where he should have been 
profuse. Why should he draw back abashed now from what in 
former days he w^ould have done on the impulse? He w'^as but a 
man, and she was so lovely, she loved him so dearly — the tempta- 
tion must overmaster him ; he would dare all for her sake. 

For her sake! He started at those w^ords as it a serpent had stung 
him. Was he not old, dishonored, unlit in every way to loVe her? 
Would not his death be bitter, and liis grave without rest, if he 
sacrificed so fair, so promising, so happy a nature to his man’s pas- 
sion? Would not every word of love and trust from her lips cut to 
his heart like a sharp sword? If he confided in her, she must un- 
learn to love him; if he deceived her, he must lose her alike for 
ever ! 

In his youth Dr. dacob had traveled in American forests, and he 
now recalled that stupendous splendor of parasitic vegetation, which 
adorns whilst it destroys alike the fairest and youngest of wmodland 
trees. Draping them with sprays of silver, giving to every stem and 
branch an added beauty and grace, the poisonous Spanish moss 
gradually preys upon the vitality it embraces, till only decay and 
death remain. 

Had not his love for w^oiuen been like this dire parasitic plant? 
Had It not first made their lives more lovely, their wmrld a paradise, 
their hearts triumphant — bringing slowly and surely Jn the end 
weariness, life without joy, and withered hopes? To few men was 
granted such a gift of winning love — to none had the gift been so 
fatal. 

Many recollections that had been buried for long years crowded to 
his mind now^; shadow after shadow rose before him, each wfith its 
retributive story. Vainly he drove them back — vainly he shut his 
eyes, and tried to exist for the present onl3^ He had outraged the 
opportunities of the past, and they wreaked vengeance upon him 
when their time came. 

With white working features he fought against Memory, against 
Hope, against Fear, against all the powers w’hich he had hitherto 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


138 

defied. For the first time in life he felt that he was weaker than 
Fate, since he was unable to compensate himself for what she had 
taken away. This temporary agony but hardened his heait. He 
would not stoop to the dust before an inexorable Destiny— there was 
yet one sweetness he might win if he staked largely and he re- 
solved to stake largely. There was no God in his heart then; no 
.craving for a mind at rest, for a life of rectitude, for a calm anticipa- 
tion to death, for a perfected existence hereafter. 

Ilis case was desperate, and he brought desperation to meet it. In 
such moments brutal men have committed murder, despondent men 
have committed suicide, men of refinement and many lovable 
qualities have committed crimes of which we should judge only the 
most depraved to be capable. 

Suddenly, as if with some new and direct bearing upon his ideas, 
he unlocked his desk and turneci a roll of bank-notes in his fingers; 
for several minutes he played with them as he might have played 
with a pet dog, or with Katchen’s locks. 

“ To i^rimn!” he murmured, with a ghastly smile; and then he 
forced back the horror of the word, and fixed his eyes upon a dim 
golden Future only. 

lie seated himself at the table and wrote some letters in fierce 
haste, as it he feared some unforeseen accident might alter his reso- 
lution. In one envelope he merely returned Herr Krauter’s bill 
with bank-notes to the amount. To Katchen and Miss Macartnej^ 
he wrote a few words only. 

Hardly had he sealed his letter’s, when a low tap, and a gentle 
“ Pardon, sir,” caused him to dash aside the paper money and as- 
sume a mien of composure. 

1 he intruder was a delicate-looking, gra 3 ’^-haired woman of the 
middle age, having about her that air of poor gentility, which is un- 
mistakable and touching. Dr. Jacob’s heart smote him as he recog- 
nized in her the mistress of a small fancj'^ shop where he had pur- 
chased countless articles in stationery and children’s toys. He im- 
mediatel.y drew out his purse, with an apologj^ 

‘‘ Really, Frau Linder, 1 ask your pardon "for such delay in pay- 
ing your little account — has my thoughtlessness inconvenienced 3 ’’ou? 
— if so, wh 3 ’^ did you not apply to me before?” 

The woman look at him with a sad hesitation of manner, for 
which he could not account; her eyes seemed filling, indeed, and 
twice she tried to speak, but her voice failed. 

” 1 fear 3 ^ou are in trouble,” Dr. Jacob continued, hurriedly, and 
at the same time pressing a bank-note into her hand. “ 1 have, 
perhaps, put you to anxiety and loss; let me repair them in the only 
way left to me.” 

The note was twice the value of the debt, and it was put back 
gently. ^ 

” 1 did not come to crave your help,” she said, in the voice which 
women use toward those whom they love and honor; ‘‘ but 1 came 
— 1 came — ” 

Her tears made the remaining words thick, though her listener 
lost no syllable. 

”1 came to crave your acceptance of mine, if it is worth hav- 
. ing,” she said, humbly and touchingly; ” do not think of the debt. 


DOCTOll JACOB. 


139 


1 know that you have others larger and more pressing, and I have 
lived frugally and saved money. Will you take a little loan of me 
till you are richer — my daughter and 1 should both be so much hap- 
pier if you would — you are not angry with me, Herr Doctor? — oh, 
do not be angry!” 

She might well have trembled at the expression of his face, and 
mistook it for anger. His eyes were hard and cold, his lips 
blanched, his brow contracted as if the wear and woe of many years 
were centered in so many minutes, his broad chest heaved, he 
seemed to ffasp tor breath. An awful tempest convulsed him. 
Coming as it did in the midst of evil thoughts, of angry passions, of 
reckless intentions and godless hopes, this woman’s voice of charity 
and goodness smote his inmost soul like lightning. Its suddenness 
and pureness made the darkness aiound him tenfold darker. He 
staggered at the picture of hell so near to his vision, so remote from 
hers, and felt abased, smitten, abandoned. 

” Do not be angry,” she repeated, rising in her terror to go. ‘‘ I 
will not mention it again. 1 thought, perhaps, even such a trifle 
might be useful just now. ” 

And she secretly put back the poor little treasure of six thaler 
notes in her pockets, half crying still, and terrified at what she had 
done. 

On the threshold, however, he stopped her with a voice that she 
would in no other place have recognized as his. 

” Pray for me,” he said; ” if I dared to pray for myself to night, 
it would be tor such a heart as yours.” 

He held out his hand, then drew back with a strange gesture of 
after-thought, as if his delicate white lingers with their costly rings, 
were either either too pure or too bad to touch her coarse hard-work- 
ing ones. 

“God bless you!” he added, hurriedly; “thank you— thank 
you.” 

And he shut the door upon her. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

It is a stormy night, with copper-colored clouds and far-off por- 
tending peals of thunder. The pretty gaslights of the Zoological 
Gardens are blown out every five minutes, and though the band con- 
tinues to play under shelter, and a hundred or two visitors sup and 
chat in the pavilion, the concert has lost its spirit. 

At the other end of the town, streams of people may be seen 
wending their way toward the circus; officers with shining stars, 
ladies in full dress, servant-maids with neatly braided hair and 
spotless white aprons, groups of children, and a sprinkling of En- 
glish tourists, pass under Fraulein Fink’s window, in continued 
succession, all bent upon the same errand. Next to seeing the circus 
itself, w^as the pleasure of seeing the circus-goers; accordingly, 
Fraulein Fink, Hannchen, her friend Elise, and a very shy young 
cousin of hers, who stood in the place of beau to both girls, w^ere 
collected at the drawing-room window, watching with interest every 
passer-by. 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


UO 

“ 1 do wish,” said Hannclien, “ that somebody rich would marry 
me, and let me go to the theater every night! Wouldn’t 1 make iny 
husband some good soup, and knit him warm stockings, when he 
held out such rewards!” 

Franlein Fink hardly knew whether to reprove or no. 

’ ” My Hannchen, thou must cook and knit for him, whether he 
give thee pleasures or no. Is it not so, Theodor?” 

” Of course 1 dare not say,” replied Theodor, blushing and 
squeezing IlanncTien’s hand behind the chair; ‘‘ we men are all 
selfish.” 

A little badinage ensued, after which Elise went to the piano, and 
Fraulein Fink began to prepare supper, thinking kindly of a time 
when she had loved to sit by the window with a young gentleman, 
and quarrel playfully. On a sudden Hannchen cried — 

” Aunty, there must be a fire soinewheie! See! the Bilrgermeis- 
lei’s carriage has fetched him from the circus!” 

The Burgher master of Frankfort, like the Emperor of Austria, is 
always present in case of fire, and on this occasion no sooner had 
the poor man settleu himself to the enjoyments of the circus than 
such a summons came. In less than a minute his goraeous car- 
riage dashed back to the town, followed by a train of stragglers, 
.shouting — 

” To the fire!— to the fire!” 

“Himmel!” said Fraulein Fink, raising her hands deprecating- 
ly, “how the wind blows! God help the poor creatures who are in 
danger!” 

” 1 never saw a fire— do let us go, aunty!” Hannchen exclaimed, 
entreatingly. ” With Theodor we can take no harm, and it would 
be so exciting!” 

After some further coaxing, Fraulein Fink consented, and the 
little party set off. Guided by the stream of people, they traversed 
the Zeil, crossed the Schillerplatz, and entered the Kossmarkt, 
Frauiein Fink thinking all the time of the meteor Goethe's father 
saw there, on the night of the poet’s birth. They were now within 
full view of the fire, but the press of spectators prevented them 
from advancing beyond the entrance to the narrow street where it 
was raging. 

In Gennany the military are always called out on such occasions, 
and forming a circle they prevent any one from entering the scene 
of danger, except those officially concerned in it. Consequently, 
there is no display of voluntary bravery, and much less excitement 
than we see on such an occasion in England. 

It was a grand extravagant sight. The wide space of the Ro?s- 
markt was flooded with wild lurid light; the bronze siroup of statu- 
ary in the midst glowed as if of molten gold; the upturned faces of 
the crowd were awed, and flushed, and eager; everything seemed 
alive with strange fiery-life — weird shadows and sounds scared the 
e3"e and the ear — the heavens were burnished, as if a second temple 
flamed out some dire prophecy — the churches gleamed blood-red — 
peaceful dwelling houses wore a fierce and strange aspect. 

” It’s like the internal scene in Robert leDiable,” whisperd Hann- 
chen, nervously. ” 1 don’t like it— we had better go.” 


DOCTOR JACOB, 


141 


“ Hush!” said Fraulein Fink, touching her arm; “ see, who goes 
yonder.” 

Hannchen looked up quickly, and saw Dr. Jacob’s tall form 
within a tew yards of them. He was making his way quickly and 
quietly through the crowd, not looking at the fire, not heeding the 
fanciful pictures it made arouud him, not hearing the turmoil; evi- 
dently he was bent upon some speedy and important errand. 

“ 1 thought Dr. Jacob was m prison!” cried Hannchen. ” The 
dear God be thanked that it is not so!” 

” You may well say so, my dear Hannchen; for an hour’s con- 
versation with such a man is a thing to remember all one’s life. 1 
wouldn’t have the dear man hurt for the world.” 

And Fraulein Fink sighed pensively as she turned her steps home- 
ward. 

Dr. Jacob, meantime walked straight toward the Main-Neckar 
railway station. He did not notice that hew’as followed at a distance 
by a short active figure, whose following was done so awkwardly, 
that one might tell at a glance it was that of a novice. Dr. Paulus, 
for it was he, had been led a little out of his way by the spectacle of 
the fire; and as his errand had had Dr. Jacob for its object, no won- 
der that he should stop short as soon as he caught sight of him. But 
it was unlike the doctor to linger and hesitate, and shield himself 
from observation behind the shoulders of taller men. We must ex- 
plain this conduct to our readers. He had an hour before been 
thrown into great perplexity and vexation by the tidings of Dr. 
Jacob’s impeoding arrest, and he was now hastening, good, true 
friend that he was, with a small packet of honestly earned money in 
his breast-pocket, determined to save him who had once been his 
friend, and whom he still loved — from so utter a degradation. Fel- 
lowship, that is to say, fellowship of ministry, was a strong feeling 
in the heart of Dr. Paulus; and, as we hope this narrative will 
show', the one weakness of his strong nature was Dr. Jacob, the 
man of so many errors, and so many attaching amiabilities. 

But on coming suddenly upon him in this way, on being let, with 
no kindly warning, so cruelly into the light of a cowardly and damn- 
ing intention on his part, namely flight, no wonder Dr. Paulus stood 
. still, hit to the heart’s core. At first pure and intense grief alone 
possessed him, but by-and-by the lion-llke rage which is latent more 
or less in us all, and which nothing calls forth in greater intensity 
than outraged affection, overmastered all other feelings. He 
clinched his fist, and bit his lips till the blood came, hardly able to 
save himself from an imprecation, quite unable to save himself 
from a muttered expression of scoru and anger. 

And then a terrible smile broke the darkness and stoniness of his 
face. This unexpected revelation of Dr. Jacob’s intentions had 
given to himself the power of frusirating them, and he w'ould use 
that pow'er to the utmost. Was it not right, was it not incumbent 
upon him so to use itV He did not carry out his purpose at once, in 
spite of the storm raging within his breast, but followed in the 
other’s track slowly. "To have seen the two men without knowing 
their histories— the one so erect, and, despite all, still so proud in 
his bearing; the other so bowed, and pale, and humble — one would 


DOCTOR JACOB, 


142 

have at once imputed to Dr. Paulus the criminality, to Dr. Jacob 
the innocence. 

They were now within two or three paces of each other, and still 
Dr. Paulus maintained his distance. Truth to say, as soon as his 
first bitter wrath and disappointment were over, his purpose grew 
weaker, and his courage waned. He felt it hard to go up like a 
policeman and make his friend prisoner. He dreaded the look of 
shame that he should have to encounter from those fine eyes — the 
flush of those beautiful features— the trembling and shrinking of 
that wonderful voice. The good man drew back abashed at the 
picture of the guilty man's abasement; it was as if the sliaaie, and 
the sorrow, and the sin were all his own, and the nearer the meet- 
ing the more terrible it seemed. Had Dr. Jacob been a younger 
man, without white hair, and slightly bent shoulders, perhaps these 
contending emotions miglit never have troubled Dr. Paulus; but as 
it was he faced the painfulness and the degradation consequent 
upon his first resolution for a few moments, and then abandoned it. 

It was clearly his duty to thwart Dr. Jacob’s flight, yet he could 
not do it; because of the man’s strange fascination, he could not 
do it; he felt this, he owned to himself the weakness and womanli- 
ness of yielding to such a feeling — 3 ^et he yielded. 

* * * * * * * 

Dr. Jacob, now unwatched, went up to the bureau and took two 
first-class tickets for a station between Frankfort and Heidelberg, 
purchased a newspaper and a cigar, then stationed himself opposite 
to the entrance and waited, as if expecting some one. By-and-by a 
fiacre drew up, and Miss Macartney alighted. 

She was veiled and plainly dressed, but carried herself with a new 
and gladder air; her voice, too, sounded softer than we have hither- 
to heard it. 

“ Have 1 kept you waiting?” she asked. 

He answered hurriedly, and led her at once to the platform. The 
train was not yet up, and they walked to and fro in silence. Once, 
as they passed under a lamp, he looked into her face, and asked, in 
an anxious voice — 

” 1 have much, very much to tell you, Elizabeth, and 1 dared not 
write. Can you forgive me all and everything?” 

“ Have 1 not already forgiven?” she replied, and as soon as the 
implied reproach was spoken, she would have given worlds to 
recall it. 

‘‘ Ah! — 1 forgot — yes — 1 can hardly hurt you now.” 

‘‘ Not whilst you love me,” she answered, cheerfully 

” 1 have many things to confess,” he continued. 

” Do not use that word to me.” 

” To disclose then, if you will; positive crimes, for which the law 
might punish me, and 1 shall ask of 5 mu more than one sacrifice.” 

” Not on her account?” she said, with beating heart. 

” Not on her account.” 

“Yes,” she replied, and then they were both silent. 

Five minutes later, the guard blew his horn, the train started, and 
Dr. Jacob had done that deed which no after atonement could can- 
cel. Had he stay«d, bravely and humbly, to breast the tide of 
difiiculties setting in against him, all would yet have been well, and 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


143 


the friends, the honor, and the position, so lately lost, might have 
been regained, Now they were gone and for ever. 

He had staked for the last time, and largely. Would he lose or 
•win? 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Hakdly had Katchen recovered from the agitation into which 
Mrs. Brill’s overtures had thrown her, when she received a message 
from the baroness, requesting an interview. At first, in childish 
petulance, she resolved to refuse; but on second and calmer 
thoughts, she deemed it best to consent. The blow must be struck 
sooner or later— better strike it now and have no more to fear. 

Accordingly, she took her way, not without some trepidation, into 
the presence of the baroness, greeting that lady simply and coldly as 
her heart dictated. 

“ My dear little Katchen,” began the baroness, in her blandest 
manner, “why do you avoid me and show such restraint in my 
presence? Do 1 not love you? — dol not wish to make you happy?” 

“ Perhaps so, Madame de Ladenburg: but your notions of happi- 
ness are very different to my own. 1 can’t feel and think after a 
pattern, jusl as 1 copy my sampler.” 

And having said thus much, Katchen trembled and wondered how 
long her courage would last. The baroness meantime played with 
a delicate piece of silk embroidery, puzzled at the sudden change 
that had come over her neophyte, formerly so shy and meek, now so 
hostile and sarcastic. Was there a lover in the way, as her son 
guessed? She determined to sound to their secret depths those still 
waters of Katchen’s nature. 

“ Of course you can’t, love, and 1 should be the last person to 
force the impulses of your young heart. For instance, if 1 supposed 
that Baron Jossef had a rival, 1 would say no further word in his 
favor.” 

Katchen had not looked for this kind of attack; a hasty blush 
dashed her cheeks, she felt no power of uttering a word. 

“ If I supposed that 3 ^ou had a lover, Katchen, poor Josef and his 
sighs must remain unpleaded for— if not, 1 want to know, in plain 
German, what grounds of objection you have against him. Be can- 
did with me, as behooves the subject. Have you, or have you not, 
another and more favored suitor?” 

What could Katchen do or say? She felt the merciless gaze of 
the baroness fixed upon her, and she knew that alike confession or 
denial was fraught with danger. Should she confess all, and save 
herself that way? Or should she refuse Baron Josef merely on the 
plea of her own dislike to him? Snehad pledged her secrecy to Dr. 
Jacob, and she chose the latter course. 

“Baron Josef is utterly unsuitable to me, and of my own free 
will 1 will never become his wife. If you were to question me a 
hundred times, Madame de Ladenburg, my answer would remain 
unchanged. Why will you force me to say that which must sound 
disrespectful in your ears. 1 find no fault with Baron Josef; 1 sim- 
ply dislike him.’' 

But the baroness had marked her changing color, her hesitating 


144 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


nianner, and her quiet underlying earnesf ness of tone. Something 
had evidently changed the timid youns: girl she had first met into a 
resolute, passionate woman. Like the Goddess ot Cylhera, the bar- 
oness possessed a hundred noms artss, 'iiova consilia, by which to 
obtain the mastery ot a weaker mind than her own, and now they 
were all exercised to the utmost. 

“And you won’t tell me that other whom you like? Sly little 
Katchen!” . 

Katchen WTithed under her raillery, and was already losing com- 
mand over hei'selt. Her antagonist saw it, and made another thrust. 

“ When a lover is kept so in the background, people are allowed 
to form their own suppositions regarding him, which suppositions 
are seldom favorable. My dear Katchen, let me speak to you as a 
mother might do, a mother who knows tlie world and the heartless 
people in it. Ten to one it this lover of yours has not heard ot your 
dowry. A thousand to one, 1 may say.” 

‘‘ What right have you to say such things?” cried Katchen, start- 
ing to her feet in uncontrolled anger. “ 1 will not stay to hear them 
from you. It I retuse Baron Josef, does my refusal give you a 
right to tyrannize over me?” 

‘‘Tyrannize over you!” laughed the baroness, lightly; “ that is 
hardly a fair word, my child. 1 but strive to open your eyes, per- 
haps to some dangerous adventurer. You are young, pretty, and 
inexperienced — it would be a thousand pities for you to throw your- 
self away.” 

A beautiful smile, halt of pride, half of humility, played on Katch- 
hen’s lips; she was comparing her own littleness to the greatness 
and strength of him she loved; and the comparison made her feel 
happier than any conscious superioritj’^ could have done. 

‘‘1 shall not throw myself awaj’^,” she said, almost involuntarily; 
and then she added, wnth a blush, ” 1 am not ashamed of him 1 
love.” 

‘‘ Then you inter that he is ashamed of you. One conclusion or 
the other must necessarily be arrived at, Katchen.” 

The stinging woids drew Katchen into committing a further im- 
prudence, which she regretted as soon as it was beyond recall, but 
which she could no moie help than the bee can help stinging the 
hand which is ready to crush it. !She felt, with no tangible ground 
for doing so, that her confession would be a triumph over her adver- 
sary, and what woman could have resisted such a triumph then? 

” 1 am engaged to marry Dr. Jacob,” she said, proudly. 

The baroness did not speak, or change color, or tremble, but her 
eyes gleamed with reckless passion, and her hands plucked convul- 
sively at the folds ot her dress, as if she must crush something. 
When she looked up, so completely had she dissimulated the inner 
rage and scorn of her heart, that Katchen found some disappoint- 
ment in her calmness. 

‘‘ You are not surprised?” she asked, having grown more coura- 
geous since her daring avowal. 

‘‘ Surprised, and why?” 

” 1 cannot tell — I do not know,” poor Katchen replied, blushingly. 

The baroness added, in a tone of the deepest irony— 

‘‘ Those who knotv Dr. Jacob well would hardly be surprised at 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


145 


anything he might do; it is somewhat of a precedent, I own, for a 
man of sixty to marry a child of eighteen, but 1 by no means affirm 
it is preposterous. What better guide can a young girl have than a 
man who might be her grandfatherV Indeed, the mutual position 
possesses unequaled advantages. Such a marriage quiets the natural 
happy spirits of a young girl, brings her at once face to face witli 
the hard realities of life; removes from Ik r reach all those pleaant, 
though, perhaps, pernicious dreams of love and romance in which 
most youths and maidens delight; gives her, instead of a fondly fool- 
ish lover, the grave exactions and experienced councils of a parent. 
You have no father, in Dr. Jacob you will find one. For such a 
privilege, you are, doubtless, ready to renounce all other privileges 
of girlhood — truly, Katchen, you have chosen wisely.'* 

Every word stabbed Katchen to the heart with bitter poison, and 
yet she could but listen to the end. With pale cheeks and heaving 
bosom, she awaited it. 

“ Dr. Jacob may have chosen less wisely. It remains to be seen 
whether of the two he will not renounce most ; in his endeavor to 
render you happy, think of the many sacrifices he must make; in 
his endeavor to appear happy himself he will hardly fail to suffer 
also, since silence is acknowledged to be a bad remedy under trouble. ” 

“ 1 Jove him so dearly — my Jove must make him happier,” whis- 
pered Katchen, half sobbing; ‘‘you do not know me — you do not 
know him.” 

Again the baroness laughed— that light sarcastic laugh which 
Katchen found harder to bear than her haughtiest or most stinging 
word. 

“Not know him?” she replied, with curling lip and kindling 
eyes — “ not know him?” 

And she repeated the words with a cruel mocking suggestiveness 
in her tone. 

“ And if you do, IVladame de Ladenburg, can you say that he is 
not good and noble?” 

“ Those are strong words, in speaking of mortal men, Katchen. 
Who of us is good and noble? Dr. Jacob cannot be blamed for par- 
taking of the foibles of his kind. No man, Dr. Jacob least of all, 
could bear a close investigation as to the goodness of his life or the 
nobility. of his character.” 

“ 1 do not know what jmu call goodness and nobility, but 1 know 
that 1 love him, and that if he had as many faults as 1 believe him 
to have virtues, 1 could not love him less,” replied Katchen, sadly 
and simply. “ Let us not talk of him any more, since you say so 
much that makes me miserable. May 1 go now? 1 hope Baron 
Josef wdll be happy.” 

“ 1 hope that you may be happy also, darling. Certainly it would 
have become you better to take the position of my daughter-in-law, 
than that of Dr. Jacob’s wife— however, 1 can only say that 1 trust 
my pleasant woids will prove as prophecies, and my unpleasant ones 
as vagaries of my brain only. Tell your lover how sincerely I hope 
for his happiness. Your lover f Katchen, when 1 think of Dr. 
Jar-ob’s white hair, 1 can hardly believe it,. Well, we live to learn. 
Adieu, child.” 

Once in the solitude of her own room, Katchen reproached herself 


146 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


bitterly for her imprudence. Why had she not forced herself to 
bear any sarcasms and any stings patiently for his dear sake? Was 
it not breaking faith with him?— and what would he think of her in 

consequence? , , i x ^ 

Boldins her aching temples, she tried to clear her thoughts, ana, 
if that were possible, to convince herself that she had done no real 
harm. Surely Dr. .Jacob was of too high and too noble a natuie to 
countenance subterfuge—surdy, in advising her to keep silence, he 
had not intended her to deny him, should the need arise! 

Oh! to have him with her again! — to feel the support of those 
strong arms, the consolation of that kind voice, the courage of that 
sweet smile! By his side how' light must appear any troubles com- 
pared to those she endured now! 

Dear readers, do not condemn Katchen’s sentiments as childlike 
and imsuiting her position of heroine in this story. All heroines are 
not heroic, you know, and heroism is so difficult to define that in the 
end our little Katchen, timid and tender as she is, may come in for 
some kind of honor. 


CHAPTER XXXVll. 

Early the next morning Katchen awoke with a vague sense of 
much misery endured and to come; all night long she had dreamed 
of it, and no wonder that, on awakening, the poor child’s cheeks 
looked pale. The bitter fruits of her passionate confession were 
already in part reaped. Mrs. Brill and Baron Josef had obtained 
speedy enlightenment on the subject from the baioness, and to 
neither was the intelligence welcome or expected. Mrs. Brill 
stormed, wept, and laughed hysterically by turns, threatening to 
annul the engagement through the agency of her husband and his 
coadjutor in St Petersburg, trying to annul it Herself by railing 
against Dr. Jacob in the most unlimited manner. He was in every- 
body’s debt, he had come no one knew whence, and was going no 
one knew whither— he might be a charlatan tor all she knew, and 
certainly w\as a spendthrift— perhaps he had already a wife— indeed, 
she had heard more than one report on this head— perhaps ad in- 
finitum. Moreover, Katchen had to endure endless taunts as to Dr. 
Jacob’s personal disqualifications— not taunts after the nianner of 
the baroness, tor Mrs. Brill was really the most good-natured person 
in the world, but taunts that stung nevertheless. Of course Aggie 
and Baron Josef had each a congratulatory speech and an odd smile 
to accompany it, and even the children were full of rumor and curi- 
osity. All things considered, and with the prospect of a strict and 
speedy veto being put upon her further intercourse with Dr. Jacob, 
it is not surprising that Katchen cried herself to sleep, slept wretch- 
edly, moaning at intervals, and woke unrefreshed. 

It was a bright bird-singing morning when she put back the heavy 
golden locks from her face, and sat up in her little bed, thinking. 
There were no curtains to her window, and she saw the green glow- 
ing summit of the Melibocus, and the white watch-tower crowning 
it, over which the sun was slanting its first languid rays. The 
broad, peaceful landscape, the glowing beechen woods, the far- 
stretching blue line of the Yosges hills, the calm, unbroken glory of 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


147 

the early suinmer morning, brought something like tranquillity to 
her heart. There is always something soothing to a troubled mind 
in the contemplation of distance, whether the space spanned be of 
sea, of plain, or of mountain range. However heavily-laden or heart- 
sick we may be, when our eyes wander over a wide extension of 
prospect, we feel that there is, at least, some spot which our troubles 
do not touch, some tiny haven, perhaps very far ofi and tedious to 
reach, but certainly within view, where we can cast off our burden 
and put on a cheerful countenance. 

And Katchen took a little courage as she gazed upon the beauti- 
ful, friendly, far-stretching Odenwald. It seemed to entice hex, to 
wear the face of a deliverer, to welcome lier into its deep solitary 
summer. The very heavens seemed to stoop to her and draw her 
nearer. The forest leaves seemed to whisper, “ Be true.” 

But, could she be time if she staj’^ed and allowed them to part her 
from him for ever? Could she be happy, if she went? 

There was something very terrible in the alternative. Either she 
must lose her old home, her kind guardian, her adopted brothers 
ana sisters, or she must lose him— him whose love had made the 
world new and strange and beautiful to her. 

Her heart was very bitter toward Mrs. Brill on account of her in- 
vectives, and bitter towai’d ^ggie on account of her jests; the bare 
recollection of Baron .Josef’s face, when he had spoken a congratu- 
lation, was hateful. And she was full of unspoken love and tender- 
ness for Dr. Jacob. 

Still she paused, terror-stricken, on the threshold of her enter- 
prise, and a gossamer thread might have drawn her back; instead of 
that gossamer thread, instead of one consoling hope, one loving 
promise of forbearance, came the dreaded possibility of a forced 
marriage with Baron Josef. 

Slowly and sorrowfully, though with less of despair in her face, 
she dressed herself, put one or two necessaries for a journey in her 
bag, anrl descended to the garden. As yet it w'as but five o’c.lock. 
Lazily-driven cows, with tinkling harness-bells, were wending their 
way toward the hay-field, and here and there the uplands weie 
swarming with 'mowers. But the host and hostess of the “ Golden 
Lion ” were chatting over their morning coffee, and did not notice 
Katchen’s light step on the gravel. Unperceived, therefore, she 
passed into the street, through the fields, and so to the loot of the 
wooded Melibocus. A dog ran out of the Forester’s house to bark 
at her, otherwise she pursued her way wuthout interruption. 

It would have been difficult to analyze her frame of mind then. 
She had as yet no precise intention of advance or return. She only 
felt that by the one course she should prove to Dr. Jacob the length 
and depth and breadth of her attachment, thereby linking her fate 
irrevocably wdth his; whilst by the other she should encounter much 
certain unhajDpiness. Without resolving anything she went on. 

Dr. Jacob had mentioned in that second and parting letter that 
she might write to him in a few days at Heidelberg, through which 
place he should pass on his way to Vienna; and Heidelberg there- 
fore formed the goal of all her hopes and wishes. To await him 
thei’e, to prove beyond doubt that whatever the world might do she 
believed in him, to carry out by deeds l aiher than words the reality 


148 DOCTOR JACOB. 

of her affection— this ambition made ner eyes bric:hten and her heart 
beat quickly, as she followed the winding path of the forest. 

Katchen had crossed the Melibocus many a time, and she knew, 
without looking at the guide-posts, the route that led to Auerbach, 
and the route that led to Zwingenberg. The latter place was passed 
bv the trains to Heidelberg every two hours; accordingly, Katchen 
left the lovely valley and" ruined towers of Auerbach behind her, 
keeping in view the Rhine valley and the Belvidere tower surmount- 
ing it. 

As she continued to ascend, the prospect widened; between glow- 
ing vistas of birch and beech she caught glimpses of vineyard and 
village and ruined Schloss, all flecked with shadow; whilst here and 
there a wooded bluff had caught the first red burnish of the sun. 
Overhead, birch and beech made a leafy roofing, pricked scantily 
by the warm rich sunlight, whilst no sound but the “ earliest pipe 
of half-awakened birds ” broke the stillness. 

It was very lovely, and Katchen drank in the loveliness, though 
her heart was full of tumult and misgiving. When she had gained 
the summit she sat down, thoroughly wearied, but forcing herself 
to think ere the tie for thinking would be too late. 

Should she go on or turn back? 

As yet there" was ample time to follow either resolve. She might 
yet return to .lugenheiin by the family breakfast hour, awakening 
no suspicions as to her intention, if indeed it had been an intention. 
She might yet avoid Mrs. Brill’s anger, and Mr. Brill’s vexation; 
she might yet return to the old happy home life. But the memory 
of Baron Josef turned all her half penitent thoughts to bitterness, 
and all her .soft impulses to luirdness and wrath. Hastily rising, 
she quickened her steps, never resting till she came in sight of 
Zwingenberg. 

The Melibocus is a pleasant mountain to cross on a summer morn- 
ing, the ascent being gradual, and the descent short; but Katchen 
had overrated her strength in the undertaking; and when she en- 
tered Zwingenberg, she could have cried for very weariness. There 
was no restaurant at the railway station, and she was therefore 
obliged to accept such a breakfast as the landlord of the “ Holden 
Lion ” could give her. 

For, of course, there was a “ Golden Lion ” at Zwingenberg, 
with its cheery host in white stockings, green small-clothes, yellow 
jacket, and square cap; and this same individual bowed poor fright- 
ened Katchen into a large, smoky, dingy parlor, set a little cake of 
new bread and a cup ot coffee before her, wished a friendly “ good 
appetite,” promised to inform her at what hour the train passed, 
finally made his exit, wondering what had brought so young and 
pretty a traulein alone to the “ Golden Lion ” at that hour of the 
day. 

Perhaps of all people, landlords and waiters wonder the most. 
They wonder what is in your carpet-bag, what you intend to order 
for dinner, whence you came, whither 3mu are bound, if you are 
married or single, if your friends are well- to do, if you keep a good 
cook, etc. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


149 


I 


CHAPTER XXXVlll. 

Two facts, sifted from a mass of rumor, blackened beyond any 
chance of redemption, Dr. Jacob’s character in the eyes of his best 
friend. 

Firstly, Dr. Jacob had left Frankfort at a time when his honor, 
his good name, his common honesty, behooved him to stay. 

Secondly, he had previously liquidated a large debt by means of 
money not his own. 

Dr. Paulus did not try to reason away these two courses of action. 
Botli told him bitter, unpalatable, soul-sickening truth; but he met 
it bravely, seeking no sympathy from the wife of his bosom, the 
child ot his love, or the friend of his confidence. Like St. Paul, he 
held that every man must bear his own burden, and he looked upon 
the need of sympathy as becoming v/omen and children only. Do 
not call him hard — he had feeling, gentleness, love to abounding, in 
his heart of hearts: he simply held deep sorrow as something solemn, 
and wholly individual, for God’s condolence, and the privacy of 
one’s closet only. 

Dr. Paulus therefore locked the door of his study, and battled 
with his great agony alone. He did not walk up and down, as he 
was wont to do in ordinary dilemmas; he did not light a cignr and 
sip wine, as he often found relief in doing when any grave question 
occupied his mind; but he sat down by his desk, and, burying his 
face in his hands, wept long and bitte^l3^ 

Homer felt the true dignity of tears wdien he depicted the horses 
of his heroes weeping because they foresaw the death of their riders; 
and he could in no otlier way have so nobly distinguished one ani- 
mal from the rest of its fellows. But the tears of a wise and good 
man are sublime. A woman will weep for wantonness — a man 
never. A wmman’s tears are dried by sympathy— a man’s must flow' 
till every drop of his bitter cup is drained. 

Since the death of a little daughter, years ago. Dr. Paulus had 
felt no such grief as he felt now. He did not think of his personal 
mortification. He did not think of the public scandal and private 
wrath resulting from Dr. Jacob’s acts, all of which he should have 
to encounter. He thought only of the man he had loved, and the 
sins which lay on his head. 

Belter than a brother he had loved this Lllow-servant in the 
Church; more than he should have trusted a brother, had he trusted 
him, and trusted to what purpose? To unstable promises — to per- 
juries — to gross, unmanly frauds! 

Therein lay the sharpest sting of all. Dr. Jacob’s cowardly flight 
hurt Dr. Paulus more than the culpable motive tliat had led him to 
flee; he could have forgiven open acts of dishonesty, of unwarrant- 
able recklessness, but lie felt that this stroke dealt in the dark was 
utterly bej'ond forgiveness. He chided himself for dwellinT so 
much on liis own loss, for his loathing to believe that his friend 
could be his friend no longer. In his deep anguish of mind even his 
judgment grew distorted, like a broken lens, giving false shape and 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


150 

coloring: to all t.hin2:s that came within its reach. He felt it his duty 
to put out of the question the pleasant and friendly ties formerly ex- 
isting between himself and Dr. .Jacob, bringing the whole force and 
energy of his disturbed anguished mind to bear solely upon the sin- 
ner and his sin. 

The sin was a terrible one, especially in a clergyman; and if Dr. 
.Jacob should have falsified his calling, it would be more terrible 
still. This man, with his splendid talents, his refined manners, his 
scholarly education, his kindly nature, had shown himself beyond 
doubt a swindler, a liar, a coward. The enviable popularity he had 
gained so quickly by his great gifts and striking abilities, was 
changed for the publicity of crime. The polished circles of society 
in which he had hitherto moved and shone, were now shut from him 
as from the street-sweeper. , ^ 

In his old age, too, he had forfeited all this. Or had his hair 
grown gray in shame? Was this last sin but the crowning phase of 
a false life, and not the mere fruit of impulse and desperation? Had 
he held oirt an unclean hand to his friend’s pure wife and innocent 
children? Had he violated the sanctities of the hearth to which he 
had been welcomed so lovingly? — and v^iolated them under the dis- 
guise of borrowed virtues and mock graces? 

And the end? What would become of him in Iris disgraced and 
lonel}'^ age? Where would he hide his white and dishonored head? 
Where would he find comfort during the last enfeebled days of life? 
How would he meet death? 

Dr. Paulus was a devout minister and a God-fearing man; no 
wonder that he shuddered at the contemplation of this supreme per- 
version. Had lie once loved and honored Dr. Jacob less abundantly, 
he would not now have so wept and bewailed his fall ; had he enter- 
tained less faith in the perfection of his character, he would not now 
have lamented so bitterly over his degradation. 

In the quaint old town of Esslrngen, in Wurtemberg, we remem- 
bered to have seen a dismantled beautiful Gothic church, subserv- 
ing the purpose of a brewery. There, amid glorious arches, and 
painted altar-pieces, and sculptured figures of saints, echo all day long 
the coarse jests and songs of the workmen, the treading of horses’ 
feet, the roiling of wine- presses — the ungodliest of sounds, making 
what was once a holy place utterly vile; what was once open and 
deer to all, an abhorrence to the least pure. Thus, also, it is with 
men. 

Never had Dr. Paulus felt so much want of faith in humankind, 
never had he so needed a higher consolation than any to be derived 
from the world. 

“ God be merciful to me a sinner!” he cried, kneeling; and then 
he prayed humbly, as if the sin of his brother were his own. 

The first person to confer with Dr. Paulus on the matter was Mr. 
Brill, who, poor man, brought a vast amount of suppositions and 
propositions, but no single thought upon anything. His hair stood 
oft his forehead more awry than ever, his buttonless coat bore the 
signs of dust and dismemberment, his tvhole dress and appearance 
bespoke great agitation. 

” What on earth is to be done now, Paulus?” he said, helplessly. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


151 

“ 1 can stir neither hand nor foot, and yet everybody will be looking 
to you and me. The very fact of Dr. Jacob’s preaching in my pul- 
pit showed that 1 countenanced him. What reason had 1 to do so? 
It is a bad business, Paulus; and 1 fear we don’t know the worst 
yet.” 

" Have you grounds for fearing so?” asked Dr. Paulus. 

” V/ell, the fact is, there’s a woman in the case.” 

“You say a fact — give me your proofs.” 

Mr., Brill felt in both pockets, then brought out a scrap of paper 
to the following effect: 

“ Company op Commissionaires, 

Guarantee Mark, 

No. 33.” 

” Of coui*se, you know that these commissionaires are thoroughly 
reliable; and that when employed they give you such a guaranty as 
this paper?” 

'' Of course,” said Dr. Paulus, impatiently. 

The landlord of the hotel at which Dr. Jacob was staying, has 
naturally many commissions for these men; but on the day of Dr. 
Jacob’s leaving, he employed only one, or rather only one was em- 
ployed from the house.” 

” Go on.’' 

” And that one. No. 33, took Dr. Jacob’s bag to the station.” 

“ But the woman — my dear Brill, do finish your story ; you were 
about to divulge something about a woman.” 

“ Wood gave me a very concise version of the whole affair. Wood, 
3 ^ou know, is a sharp fellow, and never misses his game; but 1 have 
to beat about the bush a good deal before I find it. What he told 
me was this* the commissionaire saw Dr. Jacob shake hands with a 
lady, give her his arm on the platform, finally enter a railway car- 
riage with her.” 

” It is not much to Mr. Wood’s credit that he should run about 
collecting all manner of scandalous stories concerning Dr. Jacob, 
now that he is gone. Silence is what we want; silence tor our own 
sakes; it the creditors do not take upon themselves to hunt him 
clown, why need others? Take my advice. Brill, and remain 
neutral.” 

” You don’t believe a word of this new report, yet 1 assure you 
Wood is a man of undoubted veracity.” 

Por all 1 know, it may be true, and Dr. Jacob lias another sin 
on his shouldei's. What remains for us to do? Nothing. 1 can- 
not, moreover, bring myself to believe that Dr. Jacob is bad in the 
way you would imply.” 

” Pray, don’t say I imply anything, my dear doctor. 1 never im- 
plied anything in my life.” 

Dr. Paulus smiled con tempt uousl)’’. 

” Others imply, then. I cannot believe it without the strongest, 
most incontestable evidence, Brill.” 

” You have an astonishingly high opinion of Dr. Jacob still,” said 
Mr. Brill, halt enviously; ” tliat man seems to have the power of 
fascinating everybody^ by witchcraft. Half the English ladies in 
Frankfort are shedding tears about him, and 1 wonder how many 


D00T01{ JACOB. 


152 

would shed tears it I were to leave to-morrow. Even Madame de 
Ladenburg writes to me saying that slie is willing, for the sake of 
former triendship, to help Dr. Jacob out of his difficulties.’ 

‘‘ Did Dr. Jacob know of that letter?” asked Dr. Paulus, quickly. 

“No; tor Madame de Ladenburg especially begged me to keep 
silent, and if the aid were accepted, she said that the necessary 
money should be forwarded anonymously.” 

“It was not forwarded?” 

“ My dear fellow, on the very day that 1 received her letter. Dr. 
Jacob. paid Messrs. Krauter and Co., and left Frankfort. 

“ What induced Krauter to resort to such a threat? Was Wood 
at the bottom of it?— he disliked Dr. Jacob from the first; as apar- 
■vemL is very apt to dislike a gentleman wmo so easily gets into the 
society from which he is himself naturally excluded.” 

“ 1 don’t believe tor a moment that Wood and Krauter once men- 
tioned Dr. Jacob’s name in conversation. Wood is a good-hearted 
fellow, and would certainly be above such a thing.” 

“ 1 think 1 wdll look in at Krauter’s to-day,” said Dr. Paulus, after 
some consideration; “ 1 should like to be clear as to the moving 
spring of Dr. Jacob’s sudden departure, which indirectly appears to 
have been Krauter ’s letter; but directly, Ifear, was something else.” 

“ You will set some one on Dr. Jacob’s track?” 

“ To what end? For Heaven’s sake. Brill, let us get quit ot the 
business as soon as possible. 1 am not his creditor — 1 am not a 
minister ot justice— 1 was his friend, and now^ am nothing.” 

“ True, true,” answered Mr. Brill, apologetically; “ don’t think I 
wish to bring Dr. Jacob to trouble, Paulus; 1 feel terribly grieved 
at his conduct, and almost as much ashamed as if I were my self the 
culprit. Had he been a lawyer or a doctor, or anything but a clergy- 
man, the case would not have been half so deploriffile — but a fellow^- 
miuister — it’s too terrible to think of. And you advise us to take no 
heed, eh?” 

“ 1 will think the matter over alone, and then communicate my 
ideas to you on the subject,” said Dr. Paulus, gravely; “ a great 
many reasons exist for and against our acting either as Dr. Jacob’s 
opposers or friends. It the slightest palliation can be found, 1, for 
one, will stand by his side; if not — can 1 refuse to do my duty? 
Have 1 ever refused to do my duty?” 

“ Oh! dear no, dear Paulus. Go on.” 

“My meaning is simply this: let us stop, as far as lies in our 
power, all unmanly and unnecessary talking, and only act, if driven 
to it. by the force of moral obligation. Do you understand me?” 

“ You will wait till a clear case is made out against him, and if it 
cannot be made, will let the matter drop.” 

“Exactly.” 

“ Then 1 will do the same, Paulus,” said Mr. Brill, helping him- 
self to a cigar; “ by-the-bye, why don’t you send Mrs. Paulus and 
the young ones to Jugenheim. Lovely place, plenty of new milk, 
taUe d'hote at a shilling, etc.” 

He then took his leave. After a long consideration. Dr. Paulus 
changed his dressing-gown, and making himselt neat and trim, as be- 
came a man ot methodical habits, set out on a round of miscellane- 
ous visiting, having one common end and aim. He resolved to ob- 


DOrTOE JACOB. 


153 

tain confiirmation ov relutationof Brill’s story, and to learn, if 
that miglit be, alike the worst and the best concerning Dr. Jacob. 
Kot curiosity, but a stern sense ot duty, impelled him to this change 
of resolution. He could not hope to palliate, much less to justify, 
his heavy oilenses, but he di;l hope to save him from the report of 
still heavier ones. We give the summary of his investigations as 
they were jolted down in his note-book. 

Particulars relative to Dr. Jacob's departtire. 

Messrs. Kranter and Co. were actuated to their menacing letter by 
an anonymous communication they had themselves received on the 
previous day. The writerot it advised them, by all means, to resort 
to strong measures, as Dr. Jacob had w’^ealthy friends, whose assist 
ance only desperation would drive him to ask. Strange to say, the. 
envelope bore the stamp and postmark ot Hessen Darmstadt. 

Private inf erenci^s . — Jugenheim lying in Darmstadt, and being at 
that time the resort of several family parties from Frankfort, might 
be judiciously examined on this head. Ladies were fond ot anony- 
mous correspondence; was it not possible that a lady had taken this 
means of revenging herself for some real or fancied injury? The 
names of Mrs. Brill and Madame de Jiadenburg among others sug- 
gested themselves, but vaguely. Many things must happen before 
any conclusion could be arrived at. 

Again, several facts had been brought to light by a further exam 
ination of No. B3 of the Commissionaires’ Company. It appeared, 
from his statement, that the lady who met Dr. .Jacob at the station 
had a considerable quantity of luggage with her, which he himself 
took oft the fiacre. The driver afterward gave him a ride back to 
town, telling him, among other things by the way, that the lady, 
being English, paid him double fare unwittingly, i.e., forry eight 
kreutzers, from the Bleich-Sirasse to the railway-station, instead of 
twenty-four! 

Here Fraulein Fink’s testimony was valuable. Her governess. 
Miss Macartney, she said, left her institution on the evening of the 
fire bound, as she explained, to South Germany, though a tew days 
previously, she had declared her intention of returning straightway 
to England. 

Private inferences . — About the same time that Dr, Jacob made his 
appearance in Frankfort, Miss Macartney arrived at a sudden resolve 
to leave it — on the same day, and at the same hour that he fled from 
Ids creditors, she fled with him. JNo one could prove that an inter- 
view had taken place between them; no tangible evidence showed 
the slightest mutual relationship or intimacy— yet was it not to be 
inferred that some such tie must have existed? 

Here was the mystery for the future to unravel. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

When Katchen reached Heidelberg, she felt for the fimt time 
frightened at what she had done. Was it not wicked, immodest, 
nay utterly' unpardonable, to throw herself into the arms ot Dr. Jacob 
— however noble-minded he might be? Would he not despise her 


154 


BOCTOK JACOB. 


for the very thing she haci done out of Ihe depth of her dear love 4 ’ 
Would he now deem her worthy to be loved? 

In a scared, helpless way, she turned her steps toward the gigantic 
hotel which stares at the traveler with its hundreds of eyes as he 
leaves the railway, and seems to catch him, willing or no, in its 
arms. She chose it because it was near, and because she felt too 
weary and too spiritless to search for another. Never in her life had 
she entered an hotel before, except at Jiigenheim. Would the peo- 
ple be civil to her, she wondered, or would they ask questions and 
confusf her by inquisitive looks? Would they let her have a plate of 
soup, or a cup of coffee, in her own room, and take no further notice 
of her? Oh! for some quiet cottage, like the mill-house at Jugen- 
heiin, with no one to encounter beyond the good-tempered house- 
wife and her large-eyed happy children. ^ ^ 

The door-keeper, in his grand, gold-laced hat and imposing uni- 
form, did not ring the bell at Katchen’s approach, evidently think- 
ing that a young lady without luggage must belong to some party 
staying at the hotel. When, however, she lingered on the threshold, 
blushing and hesitating, he took off his hat and asl^ed her wishes. 

“ A little bedroom, if you please — 1 have come to await a friend,” 
she said, with a painful effort 

A tremendous pull at the bell brought a very consequential waiter 
from the neighboring ante-room or portico, who eyed Katchen 
from head to foot, pondered for a minute before a large frame hung 
with numbered keys, finally took one from its hook, and begged her 
to follow him. Fashionable hotels make one feel as if one were a 
needle lost in an extremely large haystack. Katchen looked to the 
right and to the left, above and below-; everyw^here she saw endless 
suites of numbered rooms as similar and as numerous as the cells of 
a beehive. Being young and pretty, she obtained some sympathy 
from the waiter, wdio was himself young and handsome; and instead 
of leading her up to the fourth or fifth story (which he would have 
done had our heroine been a withered maiden lady or obese widow), 
he led the way through the long corridor looking on to the garden; 
and being roofed with glass after the manner of a conservatory, and 
otherwise made light, airy, and pleasant, contrasted agreeably with 
the somewhat somber dining-room joining it. Cheerful family par- 
ties w-ere here taking coffee or ices, w-hilst glimpses of fruit and plate 
and glasses, in the salU a manger, betokened the early table d'hote. 

“ \V ill you please to dine at the table d’hdte in halt an hour’s time, 
frauleiii, or aw^ait your friends?” asked the w-aiter, blandly, whilst 
he drew up the blinds of her little room. 

” I do not think my friends will come till to-morrow— that is— 1 
am not sure,” answered Katchen, timidly; “ can I have my dinner 
here wdiilst I am alone? 1 should not give much trouble— a little 
soup w'ould suffice for me.” 

Poor Katchen 1 she little thought that the more trouble you give 
at an inn the more money you pay, and, therefore, the more honor 
you obtain. Hotel-keepers adore a gourmand. Of course, every 
one looks at the world with different eyes. 

“ The fraulein would do better to dine at the table d'hote— 
fish, game, everything of the best, and cheaper than a private din- 
ner— every one does,” said the waiter. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 155 

Veiy well,” replied Katclien, with quiet resignation; and he 
took his leave. 

We may safely affirm that hotel-keepers in geneial have as regular 
a scale of etiquette as of cliarges. If you occupy a small room on 
the third or four story, dine at the taUe d'hote and drink cheap wine, 
or, worse stil), water, he will blow with the air of a man who shows 
you signal benevolence in countenancing you at all; if you are domi- 
ciled on the second stoiy, form one of a party of gentlemen, drink 
Rudesheimer and champagne, smoke plenty of cigars, etc., he will 
incline his head as if you were really a Christian; but if you are 
lodged in a handsome parterre suite, order dinner at all hours, and 
in unlimited quantities, with extras and costly wines, have one or 
two servants in your tiain, and are always needing the use of a car 
riage, you will have the satisfaction of seeing the Herr Wirth bend 
within an inch of breaking his back, and die for you, figuratively 
speaking, on the spot. 

How we pity single ladies, governesses, companions, and the like 
who travel alone. For them are no -sweet smiles of welcome, no 
fawning flatteries, no signs of supreme joy on arrival, no sighs de 
profit ndis at departure. Of course, the landlord and his tribe of 
satellites are most civil, and the fair traveler gets what she wants: 
food, shelter, the neatest, tiniest of dormitories; but how humiliat- 
ing to feel that the waiters never attend to her till every more im- 
portant claimant is disposed of, that they crawl like snails at the 
timid clicking of her knife on the glass, whilst they run as if the 
devil were behind them when a fat hon rmant or a pert young officer 
but looks their way. The weakest have gone to the wall since the 
world begun. 

It was not the conduct of the waiters, but that of the visitors, 
however, which called many indignant blushes to Katchen’s cheeks, 
and made her long to rush away ere her dinner had been tasted. 
No sooner was she placed at the table, between a stout English lady 
and her very precocious and greedy young son, than inquisitive, 
merciless eyes were turned upon her from all quarters. If she had 
carried the evidence of a dubious character in her face and about 
her person, she could not have formed the target for sharper arrows 
of distrust. Young couples on the bridal trip, wealthy families 
setting out for Switzerland, dandies from Cambridge, and fops from 
the counter, alike erazed at her with supercilious inquiry. We must 
say, for the honor of their nation, that the spiinkling of Germans 
present forebore such an onslaught, and took Katchen simply for 
what she was. 

Meantime, the six courses of fish, flesh, and fowl had been quick- 
ly passed round, and confectionary followed. Katchen could not 
resist a smile at the eager way with which sober-looking people 
seized the nearest plate of peaches or crackers, and transferred the 
contents to their own, in some cases making a tiny reservation for 
the sake of manners. It amused her no less to hear a lady, with 
superb silks and airs, recommending her husband to take the pud- 
ding with syru'p since it was so good. 

When atTength an opportunity offered for escape, she stole to her 
own room, determined that nothing should again induce her to join 
the table d'hote. Once more the thought flushed her cheeks— had 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


150 

she, by her own conduct, deserved tlis treatment? Might it not 
really be wrong for a girl to travel alone? She covered her face 
with her hands and thought long and deeply. 

The letter had not yet been written to Dr. Jacob, telling him of 
hsr flight and its purpose. Till that letter should be written she 
might retrace her steps, since her terror of compulsory marriage wMth 
Baron Josef would alone excuse her flight. But the memory of that 
summer day, with its sweet joy and sweet sorrow, foiced itself to 
her mind; she recalled Dr. Jacob’s wmrds of love— so simple, so 
pathetic, so lender; she contrasted him with all other men who had 
come within her narrow range of experience; she pictured his tall 
figure, his soft locks, his broad brow, his woudious smile — she must 
love him; come what might, of trouble or shame, through her re- 
solve. she felt that she must cling to him till the end. 

And she wrote her letter— a very shy, childlike letter it was, but 
overflowing with trembling love and tenderness. She begged him 
to come tocher at once, to let her stay with liirn as his child, if that 
might be, only to let her slay with him always, no matter whither 
his steps tended, or what new accidents had befallen him. 

The railway station lay within a stone’s throw of the hotel, and 
half hoping that the next train might bring him (for he had spoken 
in his last letter of soon passing through Heidelberg), Katchen scaled 
herself on one of the shaded benches behind the platform, to wait 
and watch. No one was in sight but a little dwaif woman, with a 
basket of bouquets at her feet, anti a half knitted stocking in her 
hands; a cheery, neat little creature, whom the landlord allow'ed to 
hand flowers round the table d'hote, and thus earn a few kreutzers. 
She nodded pleasantly as she recognized Katchen, and held up a 
bunch of verbena. 

“It is Inckx’^ to take flowers on a journey, Iraulein,” she said 
wistfully, and with a touch of cunning. 

“ But I am not going on a journey,” replied Katchen smiling. 

“Then welcome your friends with them, fraulein — so sweet, so 
sweet.” 

Katchen gave the little thing a kreutzer or two, and fastened the 
flowers in her girdle. 

“ Tliey shall be kept for him,” she thought; and she loved the 
poor dwarf woman for his sake. 

By-and-by fiacre after fiacre full of tourists drove up, and one or 
two guards crept from their hiding-places like flies in winter time. 
One man, with an imposing mein,, and a voice that might have vied 
with that of Achilles, put on a wonderful cocked hat, trimmed with 
gold lace, an embroidered coat and sash, folded his hands over a 
silver-headed slafl: of office, composed his features to suitable solem- 
nity, and finally announced the coming train. 

“ From Frankfort, Mentz, Darmstadt.” 

Katchen trembled as she listened, and fixed her eager eyes on the 
glass doors through which all passengers must pass. Soon came the 
puff of smoke and the merry blast of the engine-driver’s horn, which 
ushered in the “ resonant steam eagle,” as a modern poet has said. 
Tlie solemn guard threw op^ n the glass doors, the stream of new- 
comers poured in, Katchen half rose in her excitement, and sunk 
back again, chiding herself for her vain hope. 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


157 


The Achillran voice startled her sad thoughts. 

“ Do you go by this tiain?” it said, fiercely, as if the Question in- 
volved an important issue. On receiving Katchen’s negative, the 
wearer of the coci^ed hat and sash disappeared, intent on herding iiis 
flock of passengers safely. When the train had dashed off again, 
Katciieu saw him retire behind a desk of the guard’s room, lay aside 
his uniform carefully, and emerge in ordinary clothes, looking blithe 
and uilerly tianslormed. 

Trains came from Frankfort twice more that day, and both limes 
Katchen waited expectantly before the glass doors. The little 
dwarf woman disposed of her flowers, the guard donned his livery, 
and became pro re oaM, a sadder and a wiser man; travelers in- 
numerable arrived and departed— but no one came for her. 

“ To-night he will gel iry letter,” she thought, as she la}'^ down 
in her little bed, ” and to-morrow he will surel}' come.” 

Bo ended Katchen ’s first day at Heidelberg. 


CHAPTER XL. 

Anii things must be considered relatively. The fairest goal of the 
Trojan may be the pandemonium of the Grecians; the costliest din- 
ner we enjoy in our lives is perhaps a tragedy to the cook; the most 
romantic ruin or waterfall becomes hateful to the cicerone; the 
grandest cathedral forms a daily scene of drudgery to weary beadles. 
What a curious chapter might be written on this subject! How in- ^ 
teresting it would be to know the exact state of feeling in which a 
waiter finds himself when he keeps holiday, and is a guest. Ilow 
nicely must be characterized a hotel keeper’s contemplation if he 
travels and lodges at an inn! How funny to learn what passes in (he 
mind of a sea-captain suddenly become passenger — a milliner oider- 
ing a bonnet for herself — a police officer whose house should be 
searched ! 

Heidelberg Castle has many lelative aspects. To the lodging- 
house keepers, and other human spiders who live on the summer 
swarm of tourists, it is so much bait and sugar by which their prey is 
captured; to photographers, cicerones, and donkey-drivers, it is so 
much Slinky capital from which a regular income is drawn ; to the 
homely inhabitants of the town it is little or nothing, except on a 
festival; to the swaggering jovial students, it is a pleas nt smoking 
resort; to the vulgar people, who travel because fashion dictates, it 
is very nice indeed; to a tew art and nature lovers, it is alike a study 
and an enjoyment. What would it be without tourists? Verily, a 
paradise! 

The second day of Katcheu’s sojourn was sadder than the first; 
no letter, no telegraphic message, no token, had reached Her from 
Dr, Jacob. Four times in renew^ed hope she seated herself on the 
shaded bench, and watched a train come in; each time the guard 
we have before mentioned slipped from his chat and his coffee, to 
don the cocked hat and the solemn (Quixotic mien; each time he 
asked her much in the w^ay in which Achilles may have frightened 
the Trojans — ” Do you go also?”— each time the dwarf woman 
brought her flowers; each time a stream of passengers filled the plat- 


158 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


form; each time, as the last face was scanned, she turned away sick 
at heart, and with gatiiering tears in her eyes. 

A fifth train was due from r ranktort later; but so utterly de- 
sponding and perplexed was she, that she could not summon cour- 
age to brave another disappointment. She felt also that she was be- 
coming an object of joke and speculation among the porters and 
fruit-sellers belonging to the station, and she cduld not endure the 
stentorian ''Faliren- Sie miiV' of the guard. 

Listlessly, therefore, and with the mere hope of killing time, 
Katchen followed the shady chestnut walk skirting the town, and 
leading circuitously to the castle. A guide would have led her in 
the train of tourists and loungers, by a directer route to the princi- 
pal entrance. She would then have passed under that goigeous 
gateway in red stone, so youthful and joyous in conception, so re- 
dundant and rich in workmanship, under which passed the fair 
English bride of an Elector Palatine, hundreds of years ago. She 
must also have enjoyed, if it were possible for her to enjoy any- 
thing, that stupendous pile of architectural and sculptural magnifi- 
cence, which for coloring, richness, vaiiety, and poetic feeling, is 
unrivaled and indescribable, except in the hands of Victor Hugo. 
To read a page of his Rhine book is like drinking wine out of a 
skull, or dancinff a Bacchanale on a ton b. Mingling, as Horace 
has done in his odes, an irresistible fancy and a genial philosophy, 
the great French author gives us Heidelberg in its artistic grandeur, 
its heroic pomp, its human mirth and mourning, its dust and ashes. 

There is nothing left to be said of Heidelberg which is not said or 
suggested in “ Le Rhin ” and “ Hyperion.” 

The less-frequented path, which Katchen had taken, led her, by a 
sudden and steep ascent, to that part of the castle rising majestically 
above the town. To reach the terrace fronting it, one must creep 
like a mole under subterraneous chambers and passages innumer- 
able, and Katchen felt, a thrill of horror at being alone in such a 
place. Soon, however, she was dazzled by a glare of red sunlight, 
and a few stone steps brought her face to face with the beautiful 
fagade of the Elector h’rederick, whilst the silent town and the sil- 
ver Neckar lay below. 

Katchen had no eyes for the new, lovely, unequaled scene. She 
did not see the sunset flush on the river like spilt wine; she did not 
see the glow^ of the Heiligenberg, as if a crown were descending on 
it; she did not see the distant, far-stretching vallev, sleepy and soft 
and voluptuous, as if awaiting the embrace of the tender summer 
night; .she did not see the stately brightness of steeple and town — 
all coated and mailed and flery, by the might of the setting sun. 
The terrace, commanding a view of so much that is varied and 
vivid, is broad and extensive, and surmounted at each end by a 
summer-house, or what now serves that purpose, having pointed 
roofs with heavy stone copings and long windows. To the first of 
these Katchen stole noiselessly, and stood looking dowm upon the 
gra.s^-grown way by which she had come— dreaming, dreaming. 

Projecting from the castle wall, amid sculptured figures of Pala- 
din and Elector and Hero, was a massive lion’s head in red stone 
and in the open mouth of it a little bird had built its nest. 

Tnat was in the spring-time,” thought Katchen, wistfully. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


159 


“ Ah, how long it is since then; the birds made their little home, 
and were happy— where are they now? Will they ever retain?” 

Something seemed to answer ” No,” and covering her face with 
her hands, she wept childishly, tiiinking that her own hopes had 
also outlived their spring, and would return nevermore. Suddenly 
her heart stood still with a great joy and wonder. For a moment 
she listened, half in doubt, half in mistrust of so much happiness; 
then she doubted no longer. She had heard the voice of Dr, Jacob 
—he was within a few yards of her; as he leaned over the parapet 
in indolent enjoyment, every w'ord that he was uttering reached her 
ears. 

” There is nothing more charming in Europe than this,” he said, 
in clear, cheerful tones— ” always excepting the view of Vienna 
from the Kalilenberg— Sobieski’s Kahlenberg, you know. We shall 
see it on our way. ’ ’ 

Why did Katchen’s features grow sharp and livid as if the 
words had been subtle poison? Why did her hands clutch convul- 
sively at the wall, and her slight frame totter? Why did she sink to 
her seat, stifling a low heart-broken cry? 

Dr. Jacob did not stand on the terrace alone, and his companion 
was Miss Macartney. Her hand lay confidingly on his arm, her face 
looked up brightly to his; she was handsome, she was a gentle- 
woman, and the voice with which she answered him had love and 
trust in it 

” 1 can hardly fancy the panorama from the Kahlenberg to be so 
lovely a.s this, because the Danube is yellow, and the monotonous 
plain of Aspern must form a feature of it. But if you like it better, 
so shall I.” 

Is it matter of wonder that Katchen’s young inexperienced mind 
should have formed a fatal conclusion upon such slight evidence? 
We think not. The simpler and sincerer a woman’s nature may 
be, so the more certain is a nascent instinct of jealousy to lurk in it. 
Possibly it may lie dormant through life, and no one dream of its 
existence; but if a gossamer thread of suspicion but chance to mis- 
lead the judgment, no matter it Woodstock have only a mvthical 
Rosamond, her dagger and poison are made ready. Virgil says, 
“ Quis fallere possit amantem?” He should have said, ” Quis non 
fallere possit amantem?” 

Poor Katchen! she was already reaping the bitter fruits of her 
imprudent step. 

At first, she hardly accused Dr. Jacob tor having brought her to 
this misery, seeing in it the consequences only of her own blind self- 
deception. Why did she not believe him when he said that it was 
impossible for him to make her happy? Why did she not passively 
accept her sen'ence from his mouth? Why did she not abide by the 
truth as he had broken it to her, wisely, tenderly, lovingly? 

And now she must drink the cup of desertion; full to the brim it 
was, and not of wine, but of poison, sickening, loathsome, aspho- 
delian; making everything in the world look cruel and weird to her, 
making the faces of those she loved unnatural and pitiless, making 
all dear and familiar things cruel. He had deseited her for another, 
and she— what had she not done for him? Home, friends, peace, 
love — how much was forfeited — perhaps never to be won again? 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


160 

What if Mr. Brill should withhold forgiveness, and send her to her 
Russian guardian with the brand of misconduct on her brow? 
What if she should be forced into a marriage with Baron Josef? 
Then the dread of scoli, and shame, and reproach— the agonizing 
terror of being ridiculed and scorned for the sake of her dear love — 
love so plentifully given— so cruelly betrayed. Could she survive 
it? Oh! why had he not told her all, and spared her this great 
suffering? His heart could not have become cold and merciless at 
once— he must remember that cloudless summer day at Jugenlteim, 
when first he spoke of love — that parting in his room at the “ Gold- 
en Lion” — and her letter, her poor little pleading letter, was it 
thrown aside, alike with every recollection of her? 

She wept long and silently, unobserved and unobservant of the 
loungers who came and went. Anyone near might have noticed 
that she shivered at times, as if chill, and breathed in a quick con- 
vulsive manner, but to mere passers-by she appeared to be sleeping. 
Meantime, the flush of crimson had died away from mountain, and 
river, and ruin— the bell of the old Dorn called to vespers— the 
music ceased playing in the castle gardens, and evening stole on. 

Katchen feared to slay, and dreaded to go. She thought she could 
better support her thoughts in the open air than in her lonely little 
room. Most of all, she dreaded the long wakeful night, and the 
morrow which must come. At length she rose reluctantly to return. 
As she did so, a man’s figure came between her and the waning 
light, and a hand was laid upon her arm. With an indignant depre- 
cation, she strove to tree herself, taking the intruder for some wild 
rollicking student, but a whispered word from him undeceived her. 
It was Baron Josef ! 


CHARTER XLl. 

” 1 DID not expect to find you alone,” he said, at the same time 
motioning her to the seat she had just relinquished. ” What con- 
clusions must I arrive at in consequence?” 

‘‘Do not think about meat all; you have no right to ask such 
questions,” she replied. 

‘‘No right! Softly, Katchen. 1 will show you that 1 have the 
- best possible right. Know, then, 1 am indeed to be your husband.” 

’ You are frightening me by falsehoods, Baron Josef. Nothing 
shall make me believe that Mr. Brill would drive me to marry you.” 

” You require proofs — my appearance here is the best possible one, 
since as your lover 1 am certainly the fittest person to follow you, 
when you run away so romantically. But tell me, Katchen, why 
did you do it? Was it through love of somebody else, or through 
fear of me?” 

Katchen was silent. He could not see her face plainly in the twi- 
light, but he knew that she was trembling as if in fear. 

Won’t you answer me?” he said. 

No answer came. 

” This is child’s play, and, by Heaven, 1 will bear it no longer! 
Listen, Katchen, and judge whether you act wisely in mocking 
me. You are alone in Heidelberg, and utterly helpless in my 
hands. Why did you go? We are really to be married. The good 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


161 

Fates and your giiardiaa have so decided. Why not take me with 
a good grace?” 

A bitter cry broke troni her lips. 

” Oh! why will you treat me thus?” she said: “ I cannot bear it. 
1 left Jugenheini because 1 feared they would force me to marry 
you, and — ” 

” Your confession to my mother explains the rest. Because you 
wished to marry Dr. Jacob. What a pity you did not choose a 
younger man to be my rival, Katchen. Because you wished to 
marry Dr. Jacob, eh?” 

” Yes—” 

“ VVhy do you hesitate, when 1 am listening with the greatest at- 
tention? He asked you to come here, and wait for him, would 3 mu 
not say?” 

Katchen tried vainly to frame an answer. 

Baron Josef continued— 

“ Yet 1 find you alone, Katchen! Am 1 to inter from this that 
Dr. Jacob has played you false — the old wretch!” 

“If 1 did wrong, and must suffer the consequences, is not that 
enough?” wailed Katchen, now utlerl.y at his mercy. ” 1 acted in 
a moment’s ijassion — 1 gave no thought to what might follow. Have 
pity upon me!” 

” You are an incomprehensible girl, Katchen. 1 am but a year or 
two older than yourself, in a position to maintain you Iiandsomely, 
in a rank to which most girls aspire vainly— and not wholly a bad 
fellow. Dr. Jacob is old enough to be yo\ir gramlfather, is an ad- 
venturer, perhaps something worse. 1 loved j^ou— Dr. Jacob did 
not; yet, of us two, you chose him!” 

” How can you say that you loved me? Was not Aggie always in 
your thoughts? weie you not always by her side?” 

“That is folly, Katchen. Y'ou must know that man’s patience 
has limits; and I grew tired of hanging about you when I founa it 
was to such little purpose. True, that 1 really cared for you more 
than ever, but it is not agreeable to be snubbed at every opportunity; 
and you cannot deny that 3^011 treated me shamefully?” 

“ Y"ou have your revenge,” she said, in a low calm tone; “ take 
it, and let us cry quits.” 

“ No, we do not cry quits yet, Katchen. Y’our whole life depends 
upon the decision you must make to niyht — a decision which in- 
volves your marriage with me, or a worse fate. Three days ago, 
your name was free from reproach, and vour reputation had no spot 
on it. 1 can hardly feel toward you as I did then. If yon say you 
will try to love me, the confession will bring less joy with it; if 
you content to become my wdfe, I should lead you with less pride to 
the altar. Three days ago, 3 ’’our pride was child-like, but not wholly 
unjustifiable; 3^11 can affo:d to be so proud no longer. Putting my 
own inclinations out of the question, Katchen, 1 must sacrihee 
something in making 3 mu my wife now; any man must do the 
same.” 

“ 1 do not ask the sacrifice,” she replied, very coldly, 

“ You may not ask it just at present, but 3 'our view of the case 
will alter in time. You little know how much harm you have done 
yourself by this one foolish step; you little know how the truth 

6 


162 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


will be thrown in your tace, and bow much more than the truth 
will be circulated and believed among those who know you. Had 
you gone off with your lover, all well and good: but tlie lover is 
not at his post, and you are dead beaten, as we soldiers say. Can 
you lilt up your head alter this, Katchen? or will you be wise, and 
save yourself?” 

” How cah I save myself?” she said. 

” Very simply — mair}’’ me.” 

Her voice told all the scorn ot her heart, though he could not see 
her features. 

” Do j'-ou think I would marry you, Baron Josef?” 

” I’m sure you might do worse. Kemember that it is your only 
chance of escape from what women dread beyond loss of beauty, 
beyond loss of life even — Irom the world’s slander.” 

Several minutes of silence followed. There was no sound but the 
plash of oars on the river below, and the wind stirring ghost-like 
shadows among the ruins. Her heart beat tumultuously as she 
sobbed without tears. 

” Aie you not afraid of that word, Katchen?” 

His only answer was a pitiful moan. 

” Never mind,” he said, in a gentle voice; ” do not be angry with 
me, Fraulein Katchen. 1 but tell you the truth. If you marry me, 

1 swear that this reproach shall never be cast at you— that you shall 
have as happy a home as ever woman had. For jmur sake, even, I 
will try and tame myself a little. 1 know that 1 am a bad fellow, 
but many others worse than me make their wives happy. For the 
last time 1 say it, Katchen, I love you. For the last time, I ask it— 
will you be my wife? In spite of your avowed love for another— 
in spile of your folly in comiiiii here— in spite of wdiat must hence- 
forth cling to your name in consequence— you are still in my eyes 
lovely and lovable. If 1 have been rough and rude, forgive me; if 
1 have hurt your feelings, remember that you have often hurt mine. 
Do not think badly ot me because 1 have represented what must 
necessarily give weight to my own cause; do not cry over my hasty 
words, but give me the right to comfort and protect you.” 

Katchen held out her hand, and said brokenly: 

” If^you have ever cared for me, be my friend now. God knows 
1 need one.” 

” A friend can avail little, Katchen. Even your guardian- and 
he a priest of your Church— could not shield .you from scandal and 
shame; neither can 1— except as your husband.” 

” Oh! how can 1 marry you so, without love, without one kind 
and tender recollection of the past, without one hope for the future? 
W e should but despise each other as years wore on. Baron Josef, it 
would be unnatural — wicked.” 

“ Think of all that I have said, and do not decide too hastily. If • 
you exercise your judgment calmly for ten minutes, you will see the 
actual necessity of consent, for it amounts to a necessity on your 
part; that is, if you desire one peaceful moment in life. Shall 1 give 
you halt an hour for consideration?” 

” Not so long,” she replied, faintly; ” half that time.” 

He struck a fusee on the wall, and held his watch to the light. 

“It is now a quarter past eight, and in another quarter of an 


DOCTOE JACOB, 


163 

hour, 1 must have your answer. You will hear the church clock 
strike a minute before I come back to you; for 1 will meantime take 
a cigar on the terrace.” 

As be rose to go, he bent down, and touched ber hand, whisper- 
ing: 

“ Remember what I have said. It is a question of disgrace on the 
one band, and a position and protection on the other; remember, 
also, that 1 love you, and would treat you tenderly.” 

Then he sprung forward, and left her to her thoughts. She could 
see his tall, slight fiaure and dashing sword at the upper end of the 
terrace: now be leaned on the parapet and looked down; now he 
entirely disappeared behind the sculptured coping of the lower, and 
she only saw his shadow in the gloaming. All was still, except the 
beating of her heart, and the fitful wind among the broken arch- 
ways. She could uot think, she could not reason: but reckless, des- 
perate, and heart-broken, she dashed like a wounded bird against 
the bars of her dark prison. 


CHAPTER XLll. 

We must now conduct our readers to a cheery house in the nar- 
row little street through which Katchen had passed a few hours be- 
fore on her. way to the castle. From the outside, which is dingy in 
the extreme, and abutting upon a dark and choked-iip cul-de-saa, 
you would hardly imagine the interior to be at all cleanly, much 
less comfortable; but you would find yourseif mistaken. The rooms 
to which we lead you are filled with velvet couches and walnut- 
wood tables, the floors are polished brightly, the eider-down pillows 
are covered with delicate chintz, the elbow cushions on the window- 
sills are frilled with the whitest iace — all is elegance and comfort. 

The apartments in question open one into the other, after the Ger- 
man fashion, and are all half-boudoir, half-bedroom — that is to say, 
rooms furnished so as to serve any purpose. They have large win- 
dows, southward, looking upon the superb green height which sup- 
ports the castle; northward, fronting the town and the river. 

In the largest and prettiest room, a table is spread for supper, and 
a woman’s figure moves busily hither and thither, intent upon pre- 
paring the meal. 

When the dishes are brought in, the wine- bottles uncorked, the 
rolls spread with butter, and the meat adorned with cresses, she 
lights a lamp, and calls out, cheerfully. 

” Supper is ready.” 

No answer came, and she entered the next room, where Dr. Jacob 
was sitting. An open book lay on his knees, but he was not read- 
ing. The expression of his face, could Elizabeth have seen it 
clearly, would have puzzled and pained her, there was so much 
suffering about it, and so muctf reckless, unsparing self-disdain. 

She did not see this, however; placing her hand on his shoulder, 
she repeated ; 

” Supper is ready,” in a voice that told of secret heart-happiness. 

“Already supper! one is always eating and drinking,” be said, 
wearily. 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


164 

“ IVe will wait till you are hungry, if you like,” she answered, 
seating herself by his side, and the two sat together silently in the 
twilight. Elizabeth wanted to talk and be natural, but could think 
ot no pleasant subject. She was no coward; only loving Dr. Jacob 
as few women love in their lives, she dreaded lest some confession 
from his lips should come to shake this love to its very foundations. 

By-and-by she was startled by a strange question. 

“ Elizabeth,” he asked, in a tone of voice that careless listener^ 
might have taken for gay, or at least indifferent. ” Elizabeth, did 
you ever read the ‘ Sorrows of AV erlher /?” 

” Ot course — why do you ask ?” 

'■ It is curious to read a book twice at different epochs of life, es- 
pecially such a book as ‘ Werther.’ 1 have just read it for the sec- 
ond time, and the first was lung ago— very long ago— before you 
were born.” 

He continued, alter a pause — 

“You know that it was your mother’s sister 1 was to have mar- 
ried, only she was weak in purpose, and whilst 1 held back till I 
should have taken my orders, she allowed herself to be persuaded 
into marriage with another. She was a blonde, and beautiful, and 
1 was twenty-one. 1 read ‘ Werther ’ and Byron, to console myself, 
and between the two very nearly pul an end to my foolish existence. 
AS 1 read this story now, all those passionate frenzied follies come 
back 10 me; every page and every sentence recall thoughts and feel- 
ings they occasioned, and the marvel of it is, that 1 do not despise 
myself as 1 was then.” 

Re laughed a laugh that had a terrible satire and conviction in it, 
and added — 

‘‘I wonder how many men find their mat urer years better and 
pleasanter to remember than their youth! You will say that at 
twenty-one. with all manner of vague philosophies floating in my 
brain — with * Werther ’ in one hand and a phtol in the other — with 
no higher humanities than a universal feeling of fellowship and pity, 
and a love or fancy for one pi etty/ woman — with no greater aspira- 
tions tor life than to end it unnaturally, or pass it unhealthily, 1 w'as 
not much that is worth recalling to mind. But you will grant that 
through all 1 was sincere, and sincerity is the virtue that we lose 
with youth. Whilst young, we do not deceive others, we do not 
willingly deceive ourselves; we do not cheat the world with bor- 
rowed moralities, we do not swallow this and reject that, because 
the world tells us it is meet so to do; we are tree, and own no mas- 
ter. Now reverse th^ picture. Who is free in maturer age? Who 
can say, looking back on his life, that he has not given to conven- 
tionalism what he has refused to God? that he has not dealt fairer 
with the world than with Christ? Again 1 say, youth is virtue, and 
the beautiful alone is good. AYas 1 not gifted with aptness and 
fitness for well-doing? Was 1 not trained to good faith, to purity, 
to honor? AVas 1 not then kindl}'- of heart, charitable of disposition, 
honest of purpose? Was I not educated in the schools of travel, art, 
books, and refined society? Was 1 not received as a brother and a 
disciple among the best and most learned of men? AVas 1 not, 
lastly, true and steadfast in my belief of the Holy Word? Had 1 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


165 

not an understanding to know what was right and what was 
wrong?” 

He rose to his feet, and paced the room in great agitation; his 
brow was moist, his eyes were hard and bright, his cliest heaved 
convulsively 

“ What availed all those?” he conlinued. “Nothing, nothing! 
Training, talents, good breeding, honorable calling, selt-qiiestion- 
ing, thought — none have been so strong but the leaven of the world 
has leavened them. 1 say, therefore, youth is virtue, even when it is 
vague, and purposeless, and dreamy. Never mind the fooMiaidi- 
ness, the contempt of law, and society, and reason, the harmless er- 
rors, the impetuous shoitcomings — 1 respect my youth, because it 
was sincere; 1 despise my manhood, because it has been false*” 

Said Elizabeth, tenderiy, “ Do not give way to painful reflections 
just now, when you so need quiet and calm. You have done much 
good in your life-time, and if you have fallen from your earlier and 
better aspirations, how few there are who have not done the samel 
When we were living in Suffolk, and you had ihe incumbency of 
Meadowfield, whose life was simpler and truer than yours? Do 
you remember how, a little motherless girl of thirteen, 1 was your 
housekeeper, and accompanied you in all your walks and parish 
visits? Do you remember the good, homely villagers, and how they 
loved you? Do you remember the little cripple you pensioned for 
life, the old blind woman you maintained in ease, the orphan girl 
you tooK. to be my playmate, and made so happy, the children you 
fed and clothed and played with. Oh! my faiher, let your thoughts 
rest upon that time, if they must wander to the past — it was inno- 
cent, it was worthy of you, it was fruitful of good works.” 

“ Good works!” he said, catching up her words bitterly; “ a few 
pounds spent upim clot lies and meat for the poor in the week, one 
or two helpless beings cared for, kind words dropped here and there 
— wmll, let them be called good works, since 1 can claim no higher.” 

She added — 

“ They may appear trifles to you, but they were not trifles to those 
who were beneflied by them. You might have been more, but you 
were much to those around you. Your passionate eloquent minis- 
try, was that nothing?” 

“ To those poor, plodding country souls, the tritest truisms would 
have had double the meaning and double the piety. No, Elizabeth, 
1 have a talent for preaching, and know it; but not at JVleadowfield 
was that talent likely lo save souls.” 

The last words stayed on his lips as if they awakened a train of 
thought- from which he would fain have recalled himself. He con- 
tinued in a voice that told of great mental conflict — 

“ To save souls! Is it not wonderful that 1 should have set my- 
self that task?—! whose own soul had such need of salvation! Oh! 
God, there is something awful in the complications of evil to which 
a desire for good has led. This turning of Religion into a trade, 
this drafting of indiscriminate men into Ihe precincts of His temple, 
which loses its sacrediiess in consequence, is, 1 feel convinced, partly 
accountable for the errors of my life and that of hundreds of others. 
Do nol think 1 shield myself from self-reproach; no, hard as 1 am 
upon others, 1 will not spare myself. To save souls!— the vainest. 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


166 

the least understanding, the least earnest men, now take up the cratt 
of piety, and profit thereby as never apostles and priests profited 
when the liie of the preacher was that of constant martyrdom. Put 
into one scale what the nation pays for iis religious instruction, and 
put into the other what it receives in return. Which, think you, 
will kick the beam? But to return to myself. What did 1 give m 
barter lor ray tithes? 1 will go back to an earlier period of my life 
than that at ’Meadowfield, to a period of which you remember but 
little, namely, m}’’ ministrations in London. 1 had a church in the 
neighborhood of Mayfair, and made myself the fashion, partly be- 
cause 1 had a trick of eloquence, and partly because 1 had deeply 
studied the human heart. 1 throw the entire passion and pow'er of 
my mind and life into my sermons, existing in the week, but living 
onl}’' on Sunda5's. 1 believe that some few were led through me to 
intellectual aspirations, to an idea of prayer, of self-denial, of char- 
ity, of hopes of a future state — 1 believe that i went far to save some 
souls!’' 

There he stopped short. All the concentrated, self -consuming 
thought which had hitherto lain beneath the surface of his words, 
now expressed itself in the glance of his eyes and the working of 
his white lips. He tried to keep back the tide of passion, but it had 
ebbed too far. Raising his hands to his brow as if to steady the 
throbbing brain, he cried, almost wildly — 

“ Where was 1? — wdiat was 1 doing all this time? — 1 wdio talked 
of God, and taught the way to Christ. Was 1 better or wmrse than 
those who came to learn of me? AVas 1 nearest to heaven or to 
hell when denouncing the unbelieving, or setting forth the rewards 
of the just? 1 cannot tell; I only know that my lessons and my 
Bible did not match. My preaching may have been sincere, my life 
was false. Elizabeth, you are a w’oman, and can pardon all errors 
but one — of that one 1 have not to blame myself. True, that your 
mother and I lived unhappih together, and ultimately parted; we 
did not part because 1 outraged her wifely rights: 1 wuis true to her 
whilst she remained with me, and even when we were no longer 
bound to each other, 1 lived a life of comparative purity. But the 
love of power, that is to say, of money, of influence, of position, lay 
at the bottom of all my sins. AVith every one, as with women, 1 
strove for that moral influence which is only to be obtained by those 
who are at the same time weak and strong-— weak, inasmuch as they 
are in vain; strong, inasmuch as they desire power, and set them- 
selves to obtain it. 1 was not content with the power of my pulpit 
— I craved for the power of clique, of reputation, of the world. But 
these ends are not gained easily. To win the world, one must begin 
with falseness, glossing over foibles and cheats and cunning — cloak- 
ing all things with a fair outside, however foul the heart ma}’’ be 
within; and to win money quickly, one must enter into speculation 
— gamble — throw into lotteries — bet on the turf — do anything, in 
fact, and not notice if the coin you pick up has a little dirt on it. 1 
did win money — 1 will tell you how.” 

Elizabeth, who had been listening with pale face and suppressed 
breath, now rose, and placing her hand on his, said, imploringly — 

“ Why recall so much that is painful? It you would not spare 
yourself, at least spare me.” 


DOCTOE JACOB. 167 

He looked at her -witli an expression ot the deepest sadness, and 
said — 

“ My poor child, others will have less mercy for you than I. 
Sooner or later, you must know all, and better tliat you should 
know in part from my own lips— you will pardon it the readier.” 

jNot heeding her deprecating gesture, he continued — 

“ 1 speculated, then — speculated honestly in the beginning, as 
most men do— dishonestly in the end, using alike ill-gotten money, 
and money that was not my own, for the same purpose — the attain- 
ment of Avealtli. Well, the affair prospered to a certain point. I 
lived luxuriously and had a good balance at my banker’s, entered 
into brilliant circles, received my friends as it 1 had been a million- 
aire, and placed peers’ daughters on my right hand at the dinner- 
table. But exaggerations never last, and neither did this phase of 
my life. Just escaping dishonor, hardly escaping bankruptcy, I 
first traveled to the far West, then retired to the country, to read the 
^Scriptures to rustics, to tell honest, hard-working yeomen not to love 
the things of this world — to preach poverty, and simplicity, and 
content — 1, who had, so to say, sold my soul in exchange for wealth 
and vanities! What greater parody could be found upon our whole 
clerical system, tliau this history ot mine? Better the simple and 
safe Quaker doctrine of non priesthood, better the sublime madness 
of Irving’s prophetic manifestations, better the Komish superstitions 
of celibacy and asceticism, than the turning of Christ’s word into a 
trade-company, by which incapable men are allowed to parcel out 
the Bread of Life, with no moie conscience or discrimination than 
shopkeepers their wares. Again 1 repeat, that 1 do not justify my- 
self, but 1 cannot help seeing the misery and error to which this 
state of things has led. But,” he added, in a different tone, ” 1 
have talked till 1 am tired, and you are weary. Pour out the tea, 
dear child, and give me a cup here. 1 am not hungry enough to sit 
at the table. ” 

Elizabeth obeyed, and followed her father with anxious eyes, as 
she ate her supper in the adjoining room. By-and-by he said — 

“ That poor child — little Katchen — I cannot help thinking of ner, 
and reproaching myself on her account — indeed, 1 hardly remember 
reproaching myself at all, till 1 knew how much she cared tor me.” 

” Every one cares for you,” answered Elizabeth, somewhat sadly. 

” Yes, and every one has reason to regret it, with the bitterest 
regrets of their lives. To whom have 1 bi ought comfort or hap- 
piness? To whom have 1 returned joy for trustingness, and love for 
faith. It has been my fate to win love, and to turn it to gall and 
ashes.” 

” If 1 judge Katchen rightly, her love will never be turned to gall 
and ashes, whatever may happen. Her nature is singularly constant 
and devoted, as all reticent self-contained natures are.” 

” Therein lies the sadness,” he broue in, impetuously; ” because 
she is so clinging and full ot trust, 1 but tremble for her the more. 
Think of the sorrow she must endure from true, much more false 
reports. Think of her secnt pining, her want of sympathy from 
those around her, her need of all that she found and lost in me. 1 
formed her to myself, God knows, without dreaming ot the conse- 
quences, without the remotest idea that she was learning to love me, 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


168 

whilst 1 only imagined she was learning to think; and, having 
taught her to love— involuiilarilj^ — 1 left her. True, that 1 left her, 
as the only way ot repairing my error— the sorrow to her is no less 
real on that account. Poor child! — poor child! — a sad, strange ex- 
perience has been her first romance, of which she made me the 
hero!” 

For some time both were silent. When he spoke again, it was in 
a difterent voice. 

” We had better continue our journey to-morrow, for many rea- 
sons. What packing you have to do may as well be done to-night, 
and then we can leave at what hour we please. Whilst you are 
bflsy over your portmanteau, 1 will stroll to tl.e Poste Restante and 
inquire for letters. The night is lovely, and a little air will be better 
to me than anything just now.” 

He put on his hat, and nodding, with a smile which had little 
sunshine in it, he tooK his way toward the market-place. As j^et 
the moon had but partly risen, and he saw only a shadowy outline 
of that sculptured facade under which little Katchen was striving to 
avoid her destiny in the form of Baron Josef. Poor little Katchen! 


CHAPTER XLlIl. 

We left Katchen on the terrace ot Heidelberg Castle with Baron 
Josef, unable to think, unable to reason, only feeling the oppression 
of a near and intense terror, a terror worse to her timid naiure than 
darkness, or loneliness, or ghostlike sounds. IShe hardly teaied 
that Baron Josef would do her harm; but she felt herself in his 
power, and, feeling this, she trembled and sickened with appre- 
hension, He might extort a promise from her, and what then? 
To be the wife ot a man she disliked so much, a man whose 
touch of the hand caused her horror, whose glance made her shrink 
back in disgust, wmose insinuating voice called up blushes to her 
cheeks— could she bear that? Oh! no, no, if driven to it by hard 
necessity, she could marry any man she knew but him. 

W^'lien more than halt the allotted time had expired, a sudden 
hope flashed across her, a hope that braced her sinking powers of 
endurance, and cleared her contused thoughts. Baron Josef had 
separated himself now beycjnd ear-shot and eye-range, and it seemed 
possible to her that she might turn her knowledge of the ruin to 
some use, and evade him. She did not pause to consider the ulti- 
mate consequences of such a step, she only seized upon it as a pres- 
ent means of escape. To stave oflt the dreaded decision, to obtain 
delivery, and, at least, temporary freedom from his importunities — 
thus much might be gained. 

Swiftly and silently she glided to the entrance of the subterianean 
chambers, pausing, with a shudder, before she ventured within their 
damp precincts. Fully to understand Katchen’s repugnance to 
Baron Josef, we have only a to consider the step she was now tak- 
ing. To most young girls darkness and solitude together go far to 
foim the utmost concentration of horror, and with Katchen this was 
especially the case, since her nature was timid and inexperienced to 
a degree. Till she had known Dr. Jacob, her education had been 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


169 


that of a child; she had never traveled five miles alone, she had never 
judged for herself, nor tound lierself placed in any emergency; she 
had never needed presence of mind. But now two distinct courses 
of aclion lay before her, both involving no ordinary amount of suf- 
fering and teiror. She must either confront the darkness or Baron 
Josef. She plunged into the former, and groped her way through 
several vaulted passages, till further progress was forbidden by a 
blank well. 

Then she paused to listen. All was still as death, and the black- 
ness and moldy atmosphere chilled her with horror. A streak of 
light showed her the path by which she had come, and she fixed her 
eyes wistful’}' upon it, as it it were a friend in that dreadful place. 
Some minutes passed; Katchen imagined them hours, and judging 
tliat Baron Josef would have returned to the town, she resolved to 
find her way back to the terrace, to take the longer and less fre- 
quented path homeward, and gain a refuge as quicklv as possible; 
and, having once gained it, to refuse admittance to Baion Josef; 
then, if it were possible, to leave for Jugenheim by the early train, 
before he would be up. 

But with every backward step her difficulties increased, for the 
entrance was muoii more difficult to find than to lose; soon not a 
ray of light, not a breath of fresh air, not a sound reached her. Tiie 
damp stones chilled her feet, the sepulchial air sent a shudder 
throiigli her young limbs; her breathing grew quick and painful. 
Alarm unutterable took possession of her mind. f:he fancied that 
she should wander there the whole night long, and die of fright and 
faintness; she imagined that some fearful voice would hiss in her 
ears, or some spectml figure appear before her eyes. All kinds of 
famastic beings were reputed to haunt Heidelberg Castle, and of 
some she had "heard. There was the white lady, who predicted to 
the Elector Frederick the fall of the Palatinate, and whose sad 
chanting is still heard among the arches of his palace; there were 
little wizard musicians, who sat whistling satanic airs in the ruined 
chapel of St. Udalrich; there w'ere the two black knights, who pace 
the inaccessible frieze of Otto Henry, and many others. 

These legends had delighted her in many and many a bygone 
hour; but they added fearfulness to her position now. Indeed, so 
great had become her dismay that she would gladly have extricated 
herselt even by the assistance of Baron Josef. Halt in hope that he 
might be within hearing, she called severaP times upon his name. 
But there was no answer* beyond the hollow echo or her own voice. 

An hour of such sirspense would have turned her brain; it lasted 
only a tew minutes, and yet they were minutes she never forgot. 
When a sudden ascent brought her into the fresh air and starlight, 
she was so utterly powerless "that she sunk to the ground as one in a 
faintingfit. Her eyes were burning and dry, her heart beat with 
i-apidity. and her limbs grew cold and moist. J^^othing would have 
terrified her now. 

But though she had escaped the horrors of the vaults, her present 
position was far from an agreeable one. She found heiself on the 
platform of what had once "been a running gallery, elevated some 
yards from the ground; and whilst, on the one hand, advance was 
cut oti by a broken wall, on the other, there was no means of escape 


DOCTOE JACOB 


170 

save by a flying leap. The wall was two feet thick, and crumbled to 
chinks in places; through these she caught glimpses of dark piles of 
masonry and massive lowers, ciowned with sprays of linden, and 
gloomy, ghost-like shadows around all. 

By and-by, a warm glimmer of light drew her eye to a nearer part 
of the building which she had not hitherto observed. On looking 
closer, she saw a cluster of small square windows fronting the court- 
yard; hguies were moving backward and forward, sounds of music 
and singing reached her ears, doors w^ere open and shut with an 
echo. Katchen judged rightly that this was one of the wings let to 
visitors. She knew that many families hired rooms there during the 
autumn months, and with this knowledge arose a new hope. Parties 
were often formed among the occupiers of these tenements, to ex- 
plore the castle by moonlight. The moon was slowdy rising— oh ! 
she would soon be discovered, and rescued! But she was so cold 
and weary that she felt hardly able to wait. The singing still contin- 
ued, and such strains of it as reached her carried a strong spell with 
them, recalling happy days at Jugeuheim. She fancied that the 
melody was one the Baroness Laderiburg used to sing; often had 
Aggie and herself stolen beneath her window to listen to her tine 
voice; and often on those occasions had Dr. Jacob caught them in 
the act, and laughingly punished them by pelting plums and flowers 
on their heads. Baron Josef was Jess obnoxious in those earlier days 
of their acquaintance; many a time his droll stories and wild songs 
had amused without shocking her. Then JVlrs. Brill, ever carele&s, 
ever krud, ever cheery — always trying to give the 5mung ones pleas- 
ure, or to help them at therr lessons — lire children’s rough, attec- 
tionate w^ays — lastly. Dr. Jacob’s deep toneet voice, and the new 
sweet instruction he had given her — all these recollections came at 
once, and seemed more tlian she could bear. 

“Oh,” she cried, wringing her hands, with a pitiful burst of 
tears, “ 1 was wwong— 1 was wicked to leave my home, and this is 
the punishment.” 

She wept for some time in a hopeless, childlike way; and by-and- 
by, grown calmer, folded her cold little hands, and tried to repeat a 
prayer. It w’as a veiy fragmentary one, merely two or three sen- 
tences from a collect, yet the act brought comfort with it. She felt 
less desolate, less isolated, after having made her simple want known 
to God. Poor child! — poor child! 

At length a faintness, half the result of mental, half of bodily fa- 
tigue, overcame her. She rose with an effort to shake it off, but in 
vain; her limbs tottered, her head swam, and she fell, striking her 
forehead sharply against the jagged brickwork, but, happily for her- 
self, losing all consciousness of pain and terror in the tall. 

Soon after, the singing that we have mentioned ceased suddenly; 
the sound of a violently-pulled bell rang through the suite of apart- 
ments \yhich Katchen had w'atched with such earnesiness; footsteps 
echoed in the courtyard, and lanterns gleamed here and there. Evi- 
dently something had occurred to arouse the inhabitants of the 
Schloss. 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


171 


CHAPTER XLiy. 

When Katchen returned to consciousness, she found herself in a 
pretty room, with biiejlit pictures hanging on the walls, shining 
sofas gleaming in the moonlight, polished floors, and a white porce- 
lain stove, surmounted by a flying Cupid. All was strange and new 
to her. She felt sure that she had never before slept in that bed, 
with its crimson coverlet, over which the flne linen sheet was but- 
toned so neatly. She had never before looked out of those deep-em- 
brasured windows, or seen that ebony crucitix placed on the oppo- 
site wall. Where was she? How had she come hither? What had 
happened since yesterday? 

Slowly all came back to her; the heart-breaking revelation on the 
terrace — (he interview with Baron Josef— the after-flight from him, 
and its dire consequences. 

Did this stiff aching of her brow, and quick throbs of her pulse, 
mean that she was ill?— if so, who was taking care of her? 

As if in answer to this thought, an adjoining door was opened 
softly, and a voice, tuned to its lowest and tenderest pitch, whis- 
pered her name. 

“ Katchen,” it said, caressingly, whilst a gentle hand touched her 
cheek, ” say that you are bettei — that you will sleep for our sakes.” 

And the baroness, for it was she, bent low, and touched the young 
girl’s lips with her own; then, seeing her bewilderment, added — 

” Darling, you are with friends, who will take care of you; do 
not reflect on what has happened— do not fear that you shall be 
driven to act against your wishes. Only think of yourself, Katchen, 
and try to recover the strength you have lost.” 

Katchen’s first feeling was one of intense dismay, but who — 
especially in her feeble, overwrought state— could withstand words 
so loving, said in tones so sweet? After all that she had endured, 
the very fact of being sheltered and tended, brought intense satisfac- 
tion with it. She would rather have heard the voice of Mrs. Brill, 
of Aggie— of anyone she loved — but she was too unstrung as yet to 
awake to her real position. 

” How long have 1 been here?” she asked, dreamily. 

“ Rot long; but you must not talk till to morrow, Katchen, and 
then 1 will answer all the questions you like to put to me; now try 
to sleep, whilst 1 sit here and w^atcli by you.” 

What had made the baroness so thoughtful and kind? wondered 
Katchen. Was she really lovable and womanly after all?— was 
she drawn toward her by her son’s love? Was she at least her 
friend? She could only accept the solicitude as it came, none other 
being at band. 

“ You are very good,” she said, brokenly; “ too good, for I have 
not deserved it of you. Do not stay up on my account— i am tired, 
and shall sleep.” 

“ But 1 shall stay till you do sleep, for there is some one who 
would never forgive me it 1 neglected you. Can you guess who that 
some one may be, Katchen?” 


172 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


She answered, trembling— 

“ Baion Josef?” 

“ 1: es — who else would follow me here from the same motive?” 

” Where am I, niadame?” 

” In Heidelberg Castle, my pet. Would vou desire a prettier or 
more romantic place in which to recover from an illness? The Brills 
will join us here soon, and we slnJl have no limits to pic-uics, drives, 
and excursions; but close your eyes, Katchen, and hear the rest to- 
morrow.” 

Katchen saw it all now. It was the voice of the baroness she had 
heard when imprisoned on the broken niche of the gallery; she was 
under the same roof with Baron Joset; she should see him to mor- 
row and the next day, and he would gain his own way at last. 

Hours passed before she slept, and the sleep (hat came was hardly 
rest. Again and again she dreamed horrible nightmares of the sub- 
terranean chambeis, and the isolated platform, and the weird spirits 
of the ruin. Once she woke up crying hysteiicaliy. The day was 
breaking then, but her watchers slumbered lightly,* or not at all, for 
m a miQute tlie baroness was bj' her side, bathing her temples and 
holding a bottle of scent to her nostrils. 

Poor Josef is beside himself with anxiety,” she whispered, ere 
she left her; ” he has been sitting up in the next room, lest Adele 
or i should fall asleep and neglect you; will you not send him a 
friendly message?” 

” Tell him to forgive me,” murmured Katchen; and hardly had 
she spoken than she feared that she had said too muoh. 

thatr ^ minutes to-morrow— let me say 


‘I Not to-morrow,” pleaded Katchen, faintly. 

For one minute only! Think of his state of mind, and be kind 
to him — say for one minute, darling!" 

What could Katchen do but. consent? 

Morning came, and found her more ill than they had feared The 

'>“'1 painful, and she lay prnstiale 
m. fever called by exposure to cold. Quiet and care, the doc- 
toi said, would restore her in a tew days, but for the present all ex 

coneedeV^'u Strenuously avoided. This the baroLss wiUingly 
conceded. It was especially her wish just now (hat Katchen should 
be under her own eye, and nothing could have happened so fortu- 

retention in Helde^berg^^ 

PT’ bed, as patient and i-eek 

Shel^nfrpTr^ chafing at her imprisonment all the time 

Whv hfd not baroness a hundred questions, and dared not. 

n h} had not Mrs. Brill come to nurse her?— or Aggie? What rio-ht 

devoted, so more than kind? What had 
get nfp so suddenly?— for Katchen could not easily loi^ 

!nTi£“ 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


173 

“ 1 have my mother’s permission to come,” hesaid; ” hiitl await 
yours to remain; you are too much ot an angel, 1 am sure, to keep 
a poor sinner at the gates at Paradise in despair; and 1 am a poor 
sinner indeed, Katchen, whom no saint can save but j’-ourself, 
whether it be St. Catherine, St. Agnes, St. Martha, or any other holy 
person. You are a Protestant, you know, and it behooves me, before 
you become my little wile, tolurn Protestant too. Therefore from 
henceforth I shall abstain from mass, give no money for the burning 
of tapers before the Virgin (wdiich will be a great economy), and tor- 
bear crossing myself wdien 1 see a criieif x. You will like me belter 
then, w'on’t you? The Protestants are much nicer, 1 know; they 
don’t prevent their priests from marrying, nor do they believe in 
purgatbi’}'^ and such things. Yes, 1 intend to read your prayer-book 
quite through, and get Mr. Brill to teach me what 1 ought to do. 
Will that please you? — will that make you believe that I’m fond of 
you?” 

Katchen blushed beneath his look, and answered, timidly — 

“You swear, and read bad books— Protestants don’t do so.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, and suppressed an ejaculation of per- 
plexity. 

“ My darling girl, all soldiers swear; it’s incumbent upon them — 
part of their duty so to do, in fact; and as to books— who told you 1 
read bad books?” 

“ 1 saw you reading Voltaire the other day, and Mr. Brill says his 
books are very bad. ” 

“ Well, then, 1 won’t read Voltaire any more,” replied Baron 
Josef, with a relieved look; “ I won't read at all, if you object to it. 
Oh! you don’t know what 1 would and wdiat 1 wouldn’t do tor your 
sake. Can you forgive me for my behavior last night? — it was very 
rude, I know, but then you drove me to di traction — I’m sure Wer- 
ther didn’t feel so desperate when he shot himself for Lottchen’s 
sake, as 1 felt then. Do forgive me— you must!” 

“ Don’t say any more about it now — perhaps 1 w^as WTong also — ” 

“You wrong! — no, that couldn’t be. except that you are cruel, 
and try me so. You never did a wrong thing in your life. But,” 
and he tried to take her hand, and put his lips close to her ears, 
“ when Dr. Jacob is thousands of miles away, and when you know 
that he is not so good and perfect as he ought to be, whilst perhaps 
you discover by degrees that 1 am not the bad feilo^Yyou have taken 
me for, how will it be then?” 

Katchen burst into tears. 

“ What can 1 say, Baron Josef? Do not press me now. I am very 
unhappy— have a little patience—” 

He declared himself to be gifted with twice the patience of Job on 
her behalf, and rhapsodized to his heart’s content for another five 
minutes, when his mother summoned him away. 

When the baroness joined her son, she appeared in excellent 
spirits, and full of hope for the future. 

“ Nothing could have happened more favorably for our plans than 
Katchen ’s extraordinary s«lf-delusion regarding Elizabeth Jacob,” 
she said, cheerfull}^ “1 pretend not to know this, but I see she 
quite fancies that Dr. Jacob has brought a wife, or, at least, a sweet- 
heart, to Heidelberg.” 


174 ^DOCTOK JACOB. 

Baron Josef’s face grew dark. 

“ Is that the plain reason of Katchen’s despondency and meek- 
ness, mother?” 

“ Without a doubt. Child as she is, she has learned what it is to 
be jealous.” 

” And do you intend to prevent Dr. Jacob from seeing her before 
he leaves this place?” 

“ Am 1 a fool, Josef?” 

“ Pardon me for saying so; but, confound it, mamma, it isn’t fair 
to tell her lies, and keep her imprisoned, as if you were her jailer. 
Let Dr. Jacob and me tight it out between us, the best man winning 
the prize; but do not give us any underhand woman’s work — 1 hate 
it, and would not marry the prettiest girl in Europe under false 
pretenses.” ^ 

“ You are talking nonsense, Josef. By leading Katchen to think 
ill of Dr, Jacob, we are doing her ihe greatest kindness in the world. 
Though he does not actually say so, 1 can see that he wishes to 
many her; and what chance of happiness exists for Katchen— for 
any 3mung girl — with a man three times her age, and possessing but 
very uncertain means? ’Tis preposterous to speak and think of Dr. 
Jacob as we should do w'ere he a young man, and really fitted to be 
her lover. After all, he may want her for her money — who knows? 
You must remember that Dr. Jacob’s antecedentsare very doubtful. ” 

“You say he intends to marry her?” 

” 1 feel sure of it; and if he once obtained access to Katchen, and 
won her back to him, which his strange eloquence could easily do, 
bars, bolts, and vigilance would prove in vain. The man is gifted 
with witchcraft, or something like it, in obtainino iufiuence over peo- 
ple's minds — what mind so easily glamoured as Katchen’s?” 

” And if he glamoured her into running away with him to-morrow, 

1 could not find it in my heart to dislike Jacob so very much,” Baron 
Josef added, ruefully. 

‘‘ Wo— because you, no more than anyone else, can withstand his 
enticing manners. But confess, Josef, is it not more reasonable to 
suppose that Katchen would be ultimately happier with you than 
with him?” 

*' 1 suppose it is, mamma,” he replied, with a self-contented yawn. 

“ A baron and a white coat generall}'^ do go far toward making a 
young lady’s Paradise. Besides which, 1 make love splendidly-^so 
fiery, so poetic! shall Lgive you a specimen?” 

“1 wmuld rather decline— listen to me instead. It we wish to baffle 
Dr. Jac ob, we must steal a march upon him, and leave Heidelbero- 
before he has the slightest notion of such an intention on our part.’^ 

Upon my word, Madame la Baronne, you would make an ad- 
miiable general! To strike one’s tents and leave the enemy in pos- 
session of a sacked city is a first-rate piece of strategy —what next?” 

Acting as if with Mrs. Brill’s permission (which of course sire 
would grant), we will take a pretty route mto the heart of Switzer- 
land, stopping here and there, and giving^ou ample time to exercise 
your boasted talents for love-making. Left to us two, Katchen 
will be ready to many you in a week, and will be desperately in 
love within a fortnight. 1 know these young girls well ; their hearts 


DOCTOE JACOB. 175 

are light to break and to mend— and really you deserve Katchen 
after so much patience under rebuff.” 

‘‘I lot^e her desperately,” said Baron Josef, with a serious face; 
“ 1 do indeed.” 

” Keep your own counsel, then, and whisper no word of this pro- 
jected start to any one — above all, say nothing concerning Elizabeth 
Jacob. And now let us have coffee.” 

Baron Josef could not repress a pang of self-reproach when he 
next saw Katchen’s sad young face; he yearned to blurt out the 
truth, but more sober reflection followed. He thought of the loss 
such a confession entailed on himself, and of Dr. Jacob’s gain; was 
he required to sacrifice her for another, whom no one could prove to 
be worthier? Besides, and herein lay the salve for his conscience, 
would not the truth consign Katchen to much positive and more 
probable unhappiness? Was he not really acting a kind and friendly 
part in concealing it? 

Ulysses, by a plentiful use of wax, deafened his companions' ears 
to the iatal songs of the sirens. How many of us, no less crafty, 
stifle the voices of retributive conscience by selt-iustification? — a 
useful kind of wax in its way, easil}’’ adapted, abounding everywhere, 
and considered harmless, because it works in silence. 

Meantime Katchen lay on her couch, thinking, thinking. Every 
passing hour made it plainer to her that she was a prisoner. P’or 
reasons she could only guess at in the dark, the baroness and Baron 
Josef never left the apartments simultaneously. If the former went 
out, the latter would invariably stay indoors, and uce wrsd. True, 
Baron Josef did not force himself into her presence without first ask- 
ing permission, but every halt-hour came a message, a billet, a bou- 
quet, a basket of fruit, or a new' book from him. Then he had 
grown so incomprehensibly gentle and submissive to her — oh ! she 
said to herself in her solitude, ”‘1 can but yield and end this warfare 
— it will be easiest.” 

As night wore on she chafed at her own weakness, and resolved 
to make a more determined stand— to turn upon the baroness, in 
fact, and demand her freedom; to tell Baron Josef for the last time, 
and firmly, though temperately, that she could never marry him. 
jVIeek as she was, her heart grew bitter toward the Brills, because of 
their silence and apparent indifference. Then she thought of Dr 
Jacob, and wmpt, hiding her face on the pillow. If he would only 
come and say farewell — if he would only send a line or message of 
remembrance; but this terrible mystery and silence she could' not 
bear. 

About midnight, as she lay awake, pondering on her dang< rs, and 
trying to find any means of escape, she was startled by the sound of 
a pebble hitting her window. Involuntarily she jumped out of bed 
and peered out. A dark figure was standing on the graveled path- 
way, below, evidently aw'aiting the effect of his signal. Trembling 
in every limb wdth mingled excitement and perplexity, Katchen 
drew hack and listened. Again a pebble was thrown up. Who 
could it be? Who would seek this means of communicating with 
hei? Who cared for her, and connived at releasing her from im- 
prisonment? Did Dr. Jacob? In spite of everything that had hap- 


176 


DOCTOK JACO'b. 


pened, was he anxious to say some parting word which the baroness 
would not permit? Had he come with explanations and excuses for 
his neglect uf her? Should she see his face yet again, and hear his 
voice in love and tenderness? 

Soon, however, the window of an adjoining apartment was thrown 
open, a light reflected from it flashed across her own, and a cheery 
bass voice called out — 

“ A pretty Herr Professor you must be, to wake up decent men at 
this time of night. Come upsiairs, however, and turn to your right, 
where you will find me with cigars and beer awaiting you.” 

And another voice, equally bass and cheery, answered — 

” Better late than never, Edouard. 1 was stopped at Berne, and 
had much ado to get here so soon. How’s ttie mother?” 

Katchen’s heart leaped, for the speaker was her old master. Pro- 
lessor Beer, Excepting I)r. Jacob, no one had so large a share of 
her reverence as he, and now she felt a new vague hope inspired by 
his arrival. If she could only see him, or communicate with him, 
she^ might yet be saved. She kncAv that he was returning from a 
holiday tour in Switzerland, and she knew that he would pass 
through Jugenheim on his way to Frankfort. What so feasible as 
to intrust a letter or message to his hands, telling the Brills of her 
unhappiness? Could they learn from herself the real nature of the 
baroness’s apparent kindness, she felt sure that they would come 
to her without delay. Mr. Brill loved her; Mrs. Brill was kind- 
hearted in the exlreme; on the assistance of both she relied firmly, 
if she could tell them the truth which she could not do v^hilst un- 
der the surveillance of the baroness. 

She leaned her aching temples on her hands and pondered. Her 
chance of rescue was now or never. To morrow the professor 
might be gone; to-morrow her fortitude might give away, and the 
fatal promise might be given. The manner of accomplishing her 
purpose, however, had no slight difficulty. 

Her room adjoined the sheafing apartment of the baroness on one 
side, and on other other a small drawing-roam, commuuicatino- in 
its turn with a fourth; the latter, however, belonging to anofher 
suite of apartments, was always barred, and opened upon a different 
staircase. This staircase the professor had ascended, and it occurred 
to her that he might possibly be the guest for whom the fourth and 
last apartment had been prepared. All day, whilst lying on her 
couch, she had heard sounds of floor- waxing, window -rubbing, and 
pillow-shakiug in that dii’ection; what so likely as that the professor 
should have asked his friend to bespeak quarters for him? 

Having dressed herself swiftly and noiselessly by the flickering 
moonlight, she crept on tip-toe into the drawing-room and listened 
At first all was still; bwt by-and-by voices and footsteps sounded iii 
the distant corridor; good-nights were exchanged; the door was shut 
and she heard the professor humming a song to himself whilst he 
unstrapped his valise. 

To Katcherr’s first timid tap came no answmr; to her second a 
hearty ‘ Herein ” and then she entered. All the figurative powers 
of Ossian would not enable us to portra}'' the beAvilderment of the 
poor professor. Retreating to a further end of the room with a 
dramatic bound, he looked at his visitor much as Macbeth looks 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


177 

at Banquo, or Orestes at the visionary furies. At length, gallantry 
overcame surprise, and he advanced with a cordial hand and friend- 
ly smile, really convinced that it was his little scholar Katcheu 
Eggeis, and no mythical delusion in her shape. 

Very simply and sorrowfully Katchen told her story, leaving out 
that part of it concerning Dr. Jacob, and keeping herself solelj" to 
Baron Josef's importunities, and the baroness’s machinations. 13he 
was unable to repress tears as she dwelt on her isolation and im- 
prisonment; and she could not help reproaching Airs. Brill for her 
apparent neglect. 

“Tell them,” she said, earnestly, and with a pathetic sadness 
that touched her hearer’s heart, “ tell them, that whatever they may 
think, 1 have not deserved this indifference; or if 1 have, 1 will 
never vex them again. 1 cannot marry Baron Josef— wliy will llioy 
break my heart? It 1 were to marry him, we should both be very 
unhappy, and his mother would hate me.” 

“ God forbid I” interrupted the professor; “ why on earth should 
anvbody hate you, dear child?” 

“You don’t know Aladame de Ladenburg, Herr Professor: she 
must have her own way, or revenge herself. She is trying to have 
her own way by marrying me to her son; and it 1 consent to please 
her, she would spoil my peace afterward. With all her apparent 
kindness, she can be cruel!” 

“ To think that you are entirel}’’ at her mercy is dreadful,” said 
the professor, bringing all the logic of his well-trained mind to bear 
upon the case in question; “but 1 really don't understand the 
motive which should induce such extraordinary conduct on her 
part. As 1 have often taught you, Katchen, the weight lifted by a 
lever can only be in proportion to the momentum or movimr power 
— so the energy induced must be pro r«^«wi?h its cause. This lady 
may be very anxious tor you to become her son’s wife; but some- 
thing more than this feeling is uece>sary to account for her extreme 
measures. If there was some one else she did not wish you to many, 
affairs would be considerably explained.” 

Katchen crimsoned. She felt intuitively that ever since her con- 
fession regarding Dr. Jacob, the baroness liad looked upon her with 
unfavorable eyes; but she could not define or describe the feeling, 
neither could' she confide it to the professor. She replied, with 
childish simplicity — 

“ Why did she not choose Aggie? Aggie would so willingly 
nave married the baron, and she cared for no one else.” 

Professor Beer looked up with the smile tnat Katchen had often 
dreaded in Fraulein Fink’s class -room— an inquisitorial smile, a 
smile that portended a frown. 

“ And you did care for somebody else?-T-eh, Katchen?” 

“1 hardly knew what 1 was saying — I* am very unhappy, and 
could almost wish to die,” she said, piteously, and covering her face 
with her hands, wept without restraint. 

How did the professor act? 

His position was truly an embarrassing one; for though intimate 
with Sanskrit, and most Aryan tongues he was utterly unread in (he 
simple language of a woman’s heart. Aloreover, you must not for- 
get that Professor Beer was an old lover of Katchen’s, and for the 


178 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


love of her had lost all appetite on a certain day noticed in this 
history. iJere was a situation tiying indeed, but. one that could 
doubtless be made mttch of by a discreet tactician. 

The professor knew no tactics at all in this science, and only acted 
upon the impulses ot a chivalric though rough heart. Without sen- 
timentalizing, he put himself again in the position of her master 
stopped her tears with the voice of authority rather than the voice 
of afiection; then, as she grew calmer, rewarded her obedience as he 
would have rewarded it in her school-days. 

“That is well done,” he said, gently shaking her hand; “and 
now, Katchen, listen to me. Do not distress yourself, or give way 
to unnecessary alarms, for i think I see a plan of speedily putting 
an end to this persecution.” 

Such a bright look thanked him! He received it with a pleased 
smile, and continued — 

“ 1 had intended to remain a day or two in Heidelberg; but for 
your sake 1 will alter my plans, so as to be at Jugenheim by to mor- 
row at noon. 1 will then lay the whole truth forciby before your 
guardian and Mrs. Brill, and if they can be brought to see things 
in the same light that 1 do, you will be free to-morrow. 1 don’t 
pretend to fathom the baroness’s conduct, not knowing sufficient of 
her; but she has treated you unwarrantably— Mr. and Mrs Brill 
see that. ” 

“Oh, Herr Professor!” cried Katchen, joyfully, and takint-- his 
great brown hands in hers, “ how can 1 thank you enough v let me 
do something fur you— let me worn for you to prove my giati- 


“ Did 1 not say when you took leave of me that I would be a 
friend to you should you ever ne ed my services!” he replied; “ and 
^ opportunity to keep my promise.” 

But you WinJet me knit you a pair ot stockings, Herr Pro- 
fessor/ pleaded K-atchen—“ just one pair?” 

“ The mother knits and sews for me, and she would hardly lose 
her employment, little Katchen,” answered the professor, somewhat 
wistfully; for he thought of what a home might be, brightened bv 
so sweet and childlike a nature, and he dared not hope for it him- 

S6li. 


“ What can 1 do for you, then?” 

And again Katchen received a cold answer, though the professor’s 
heart was kindlin^^ into all kinds of bitter-sweet emotions, for which 
le chided himself when left alone. Men of his stamp constantly 
reproach themselves with little reason, taking as folly or error what 
IS natural and manly sentiment oulv; and throughout their lives lin 
gering modestly on the outworks, whilst more daring warriors’ win 
the citadel at a blow. 


CHAPTER XLY. 

It will be as well here to transcribe the letter that Dr. Jacob found 
awaiting him at the Poste Restante. It was from Mrs. Brill and 
ments^ characterized all that lady’s move- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


179 

“ JuGENHETM, Sept. 5th, 185 -. 

“ My dear Dr. Jacob:— Fancy our surprise and fright yesterday 
when at breakfast our Kalchen was missing. If any more Russian 
guardians oiler us the charge of their wards with a thousand a year, 
ne<^er again shall Tom be induced to undertake such a responsi- 
bilitj’’. It was then eight o’clock: no one had caught glimpse of 
her but an old milk-woman, and she was too stupid lo he of the least 
use in giving us a clew. 

“ She had seen her leave the ‘ Golden Lion,’ and that was all. 
Why didn’t the stupid old creature follow her, and just learn 
w'^hither she was bound, to the right or to the left? But these Ger- 
man peasantry are so dense — give me my native Suffolkers, with all 
their impudence. Well, as soon as we had swallowed our coffee 
and rolls, we held a council as to what should be done. Every one 
seemed to be of opinion that 1 ought to go back to Frankfort at 
once, as it was most likely Katchen had gone home in a pet about 
Baron Josef. This, however, 1 must explain more fully to you. A 
great deal has been lately said by the baroness and myself regarding 
the suitability of a marriage between her son and our young charge, 
and we had mutually decided that unless she showed the most urgent 
and reasonable grounds of refusal, the engagement should be again 
brought on the tapis. Of course no one was more anxious than my- 
self for the child’s happiness; but young girls take such foolish 
fancies into their heads, and have so little judgment to boot, that 1 
did not doubt Katchen would very soon come over to oui side. The 
day before lier flight she had an interview with Madame de Laden- 
burg on the subject, and now comes (to us) the most extraordinary 
part of the story. She confessed lo the baroness that she loved you, 
and was engaged to marry you! Is she mad? Are you mad? Are 
we all mad? Of course ! cannot for one moment believe that you 
ever contemplated so unpiecedented a step; but Katchen, we all 
knew, did worship you in a most extraordimiry maimer, and it 
seemed just possible that she may have misunderstood some kind 
w’ord or action of jmurs, which, coupled with her absurd prejudice 
against the young baron, formed a pretext for her flight. Katchen 
was always a strange child, a second Katchen of Heilbronn, 1 take 
her, who would follow anyone she cared for to the world’s end, and 
would abate no iota of her love, whatever treatment slie might re- 
ceive. Well, I started by the first train for Frankfort, and you may 
imagine my dismay in (iiiding no Katchen. Poor dear Tom was 
out of himself, as the Germans .say— raved, cried, and paced the 
room like a maniac. If Aggie had run away 1 think he would 
hardly have been in such distress of mind. We immediately drove 
to your lodgings at the hotel, but finding you gone (which surprised 
us no little), returned by the next train to Jugenheim, and there 
found, not indeed our Katchen, but a letter from you, the contents 
of which I need not repeat. Tliat you ever dreamed of marrying the 
child I still won’t believe; but that you had said something which 
she might have understood as an offer of marriage was now plain to 
us. And now, dear Dr. Jacob, answer all the followdng questions, 
either on paper or irr person : 

“ First!}’’ — Why have you stolen a march upon us in this viuiy, and 
left us in the dark as to your movements? 


DOCTOR JACOB, 


180 

“ Secondly — Why do 3-011 object to our Katchen marrying Baron 
Josef, or Baron anybody else? 

“ Thirdly— What made her fancy herself engaged to 3mu? 

“ h’ourt lily— Who i» this mysterious lady who left Frankfort in 
your company ? ^ ^ ^ 

“ Above all, 1 ask you to restore Katchen to us, since it seems be- 
3mnd doubt that she has sought your protection from this marriage; 
remember that she is under age, and m}’^ Tom is responsible for her; 
remember that you are our friend, and are bound to treat us honor- 
abl3^ I am very angry with her, with 3’'OU, with everybody. She 
has shown herself ungrateful and foolish beyond comprehension, 
and the fact of Baron Josef teasing her was hardly a sufficient rea- 
son to hud us all. 

“ The baroness, Tom, and Baron Josef, will follow this letter, and 
will not return without a proper explanation— and Katchen. They 

will stay at the Hotel B . As you mentioned m your letter to her 

that you would be in Heidelberg to-day, 1 trust you will all meet, 
and soon set my mind at rest. 

“ The baroness is frightfully annoyetl at Katchen’s behavior, 
though she likes the child well enough to forgive her and make up 
a marriage yet. Clear yourself of any intention to entice Katchen 
from her home, and 1 promise you an invitation to the wedding. 

“ Adieu. Tom will tell you what a ferment Frankfort is in re- 
garding your abrupt departure. 1 hate tattle, and forbear. 

“Tours truly, 

“ Emily Brill. 

“p.S. — But for 5mur letter to Katchen 1 shouldn’t have known 
wdiere to write to you.” 

“ Oh! my little Katchen!” said Dr. Jacob, as he read this letter to 
his daughter; “ what have 1 done, to what unhappiness must 1 have 
brought 3^11 !” 

“ katchen left Jugenheim, and alone?” 

“ Think of it only — that child, that timid young creature, Eliza- 
beth; there must have been more than mere anno3'^ance at Josef’s 
attentions at the bottom of such a step. It is possible that — ” 

He broke ofi suddenly, and for some time remained silent. When 
he spoke his voice had a melancholy triumph in it: 

“ Katchen has followed in the steps of all other women 1 have 
known and loved— she, so 3’'oung, so simple, so untutored. She has 
given me her wdiole heart, and in this last wild act of hers 1 but 
trace the consequences of my own imprudence. Whilst 1 was de- 
veloping her intellect and leading her into new fields of thought, 1 
was but teaching her to love me; whilst thinking to enlarge her 
character and elevate her taste, 1 was but making her more truly a 
woman. 1 might have known how it would be — 1 might have 
divined that books, ideas, nature, were only understood and loved 
tor sake of the teacher. Can 1 wmnder that her romantic, un- 
tutored 3mung nature should have run into this extreme of 
self-devotion? Can 1 blame her, who was young and weak, 
for falling into an error which 1 had no strength to avoid 
though strong, and a man of sixty years? She loves me, this little 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


181 

Katclien— loves me in my time of failing strength and whitening 
hairs. Strange!— that there should be youthf illness about me still — 
1, who have lived several lives in one, and each phase burning with 
passion and action. Well, 1 am not old yet, or Katcheu would not 
love me.” 

And again he laughed, that self-derisive painful lansrh which had 
once beforesOchilledElizabeih’sheart. ” Supposing,” he continued — 
‘‘ supposing that anything should happen to this poor child on her 
wanderings — any harm, no matter in what shape — and it is not impos- 
sible, would not that be a comfortable subject for future contempla- 
tion, a self-satisfying subject, 1 should rather sa}’’, since it must touch 
upon my vanilj^? For younger men, few wmmen leave their homes 
nearly broken-hearted; but for me, this fair girl of eighteen sum- 
mers rushed out into the world with all her sorrow and her inno- 
cence, and has come to harm! Good Heavens! after this 1 ought to 
have enough vitality to live another youth! But now it is no time 
for (alking. Did not Mi’s. Brill say that Katciien was not found at 
Frankfort, and that they were seeking her here? Katchen gone! — it 
seems still hard to believe. Wliat do you think, Eizabeth? — can we 
seek her? — shall we find her?” 

‘‘ There is a great probability of her being here,” replied Eliza- 
beth; ” she knew that your route lay through Heidelberg, and evi- 
dently desired to seek your protection from Baron Josef 's persecu- 
tions, which naist have been far more repugnantT to her than the 
Brills-supposed. She had no other friend but you -to whom else 
should she have gone?” 

‘‘ How dreadful to think of the poor child alone in this place, so 
uproarious wilh student life as it is! We must set about our inquiry 
at once — but where to begin— there is the difiiculty.” 

A furl her discussion followed, at the end of which Dr, Jacob put 
on his hat and went straight to the hotel named in Mrs. Brill’s let- 
ter. There he found, not Katchen, indeed, but the little' room she 
had quitted a few hours ago, ana the somewhat starlling intelligence 
that she had started out for_^ walk, and had not been seen since. 
He moreover found, to his disgust, not Mr. Brill, but the address of 
Madame de Ladenburg, who was domiciled in Heidelberg Castle. 
From the lips of that lady he learned of Katchen ’s safety under her 
roof; and therewith, for the time being, was obliged to content him- 
self. 

He made an appointment with the baroness for the riext day, the 
circumstances of which will be narrated in the coming chapter. 


CHAPTER XL VI. 

When he alighted in the courtyard, she descended, hat in hand, 
and met him on the Ihreshold. 

” Let us talk here, or stroll in the gardens,” she said, with appar- 
ent nonchalance; ” 1 have been a prisoner all day long, and pine for 
a breath of air.” 

” You have stayed indoors on Katchen’s account -that was kind.” 
he replied; and ihen giving her his arm, he led her through the 
courtyard without speaking. Passing under the old portcullis, with 


182 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


its sculptured knights and banging teeth, they entered that superb 
avenue ot lare trees which sweeps the ruins in a curve, and which 
even in the tourist season can boast of solitude. By-and by they 
seated themselves in the most secluded part of it, overlooking a 
broken fountain, whose Undine had long since passed away, and a 
torso ot some water^god, to whom no joyful waves paid homage. A 
liCle strip ot once cultivated ground, and an unsightly pool of black 
slime, added to the weird aspect of the place; whilst merry strains of 
music trom a distant restaurant seemed to mock all that was past, 
even the haunt ot torgotten gods and of buried legend. 

Dr. J acob was first to speak. 

“ 1 have much to say to you, much perhaps that will be unwel- 
come to your ears; but it must be said now or never. Have I your 
permission to speak?” 

‘‘ flow can 1 silent^e you? Circumstances have thrown us together, 
and we must both make such use of them as we think best. Re- 
proach me it you like, 1 will find a way of revenge.” 

” And so can I,” he said, quietl}", as if giving utterance to the 
merest commonplace. 

But at least you will acknowledge that chance has put the best 
card in my hand.” 

” Explain 5 ^ourself.” 

She w’as silent, for a few minutes, and then spoke with flashing 
eyes and glowing cheeks. 

” The best card is now in my hand, and 1 intend to play it w^ell. 

itli your daughter i hav^e no more to do — she cannot divide me 
from you now; but the fate of Katchen Eggers wull Inmceforth be 
decided by myselt alone. Can you guess what kind of decision 1 
shall make?” 

‘‘ You would like her to marry Baron Josef— that is only natural.” 
ral would like to marry her yourself— 1 find that unnat'u- 

” We do not meet to-day to argue matters of opinion,” he said, 
with impatience; ” let us confine ourselves to facts. For good rea- 
sons ot your own, you desire and intend that Katchen should be- 
come the wife ot ^mur son; for equally good reasons, 1 intend to 
thwart the project as much as 1 can. 1 speak in earnest, madame 
and I repeat— Katchen shall never become the wife of Baron Josef ’’’ 

”1 am quite willing to keep "to facts, for, in this instance, they 
favor me. Katchen is ill; she is placed under my charge; she is full 
of bitterness toward you because ot your seeming neglect; she sees 
Josef daily, and under the most advantageous circumstances. Kow 
let us judge ot your owm chances ot success. Y'ou are separated 
from Katchen, not only by the course of events, but by more stub- 
born things still — stone walls and vigilant watchers. You might 
convince her ot your faithfulness, you might induce her to disbelieve 
evil reports ot you, you might win her again, and for ever, always 
supposing the last barriers to be overcome. If not, what avail your 
powers of ;^ersuasion? wdiat avails your eloquence? what avails your 
tenderness?— you will never see Kitchen Eggers again till she is 
Josef swufe.” 

“ You have no right to prevent me, and no power,” he replied 
catching somewhat of her reckless manner; ‘^for the present, at 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


183 


least, Katchen beloiij^s to me, and not till she has canceled that 
right by her own lips will 1 relinquish it. She promised to marry 
me; perhaps tor her own happiness 1 shall relinquish that promise — 
but whilst it is not withdrawn, 1 act as her husband might do. You 
may threaten. Baroness Ladenburg— 1 can threaten also; we will 
see who is the victor.” 

“We will see,” she said; “ tor the present 1 can withstand you; 
by-and-by, you will find 1 have not boasted vainly, and 1 am con- 
tent to await your verdict.” 

He fell into deep thought, striking his stick resolutely on the turf 
as it it gave him pleasure to crush the daisy roots. When he spoke, 
his voice was searching, and his face was moved. 

“ Tell me, Baroness Ladenburg,” he asked, watching her features 
narrowly, “ what day of the month is this? — the twenty- third of 
September, I believe!” 

A bright thread of crimson scarred her cheek like a saber- wound; 
her eyedids drooped as they met his gaze; the w’ords she tried to 
speak, died away unuttered on her lips. 

“ The date is fixed in my calendar, and you can hardly have for- 
gotten it, Ther^se.” 

“ Can a past folly or sin never be allowed to rest in its grave?” 
she cried, bitterly; “ are you more merciless than Fate?” 

He continued in the same voice. 

“ On the twenty-third of September, seven years ago, you were 
prevented from ruin— and disgi-ace— from all kinds of unhappiness, 
by one whom you have hated ever since — do you deny that, Ther^se?” 

“ Y’ou say from all kinds of unhappiness— that remained to be 
proved. We might have been happy— we must have been happy, 
had you loved me.” 

“ 1 did love you— as well at least as any one can love the wife of 
another man, the mother of another man’s children. You wmre 
beautiful and unhappy in your married life; 1 w^as free, and 1 ad- 
mired you; we wbie throvvn much together, and my- admiration 
grew into love. 1 take upon my shoulders all the blame, all the sm, 
all the sorrow of it. But i was not so led away by my passion as to 
entertain the thought of dishonoring your husband, yoiu_ children, 
above all, yourself, even for one mad moment. Grant this much to 
me, Thei^se, that 1 never once allowed my love to get the better of 
my reason; in the letter, we w'ere innocent, though in the spirit, 
guilty. Never once did I breathe a word of temptation in your ear. 
Small as this justification is, let me take it. ’ 

“ You are iWdy to justify yourself -is there no excuse for me? 1 
was young, admired, and neglected as a wife; is it no slight excul- 
pation for my madness that 1 had little comfort in my home— that 
1 was driven to take such consolation as the w’oiid ofieied? Of all 
others, do you judge me harshest— you, for whose sake 1 did this 
thing? 1, at least, acted generously.” 

“ You acted generously to me, but to another it was otherwise. 
Listen, TherSse, and 1 will recali the story. Vie met at Ischl in the 
height of the season, when parlies of pleasure were formed every 
da}” and we had ample opportunity of intercourse. Elizabeth w’as 
with me, and she w'as so unfortunate as to excite the admiration of 


184 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


3 ^our husband; do you deny that she resisted his attentions with all 
the dignity and tact she possessed?” 

” Siie disliked him from the first, and was, moreover, engaged to 
marry an Englishman at the saipe time, is it matter of wonder or 
commendation that she acted as she did? An opposite course would 
have been idiocy on her part.” 

” She treated the baron wdth the disdain he merited, and grew 
daily colder to you, a coldness hardly to be wondered at, since any 
daugliter would have shown the same feeling toward a married 
woman whom her father admired. If Elizabeth was tlie only one 
among us who adhered to the right— however much she came in our 
way w’e must, at least, accredit her equal to her deserts. Let us 
look at what we ourselves contemplated. Do you remember the let- 
ter you wrote to me on the twenty-third of September?” 

He drew a faded paper from Ids pockec-book and held it toward 
her She shrugged her shoulders defiantly and turned away her 


. remember it, Therdse, and not without cause; but do not 
think that 1 reproach you for having written it— for any proof that 
5 mu have given me of your overmastering love; God forbid’ 1 am 
weak, I have sins enough of my own, and wLulever happens,' I shall 
ever remem jcr your erring love wntli tenderness; 1 shall ever be 
grateful tor it— but 1 cannot think of it without thinkim^ also of the 
sms It lea you to commit against another -that other innocent- and 
my heart hardens to'you on her account. You wrote to me in a 
frenzy of unhappiness and jealousy, asking me to take you away 
from your unfaithful husband and loveless home, conseiitia*' to irive 
up honor, children, all, for my sake. In an evil hour 1 consented 
Look back upon the past, Therese, and ask yourself whether yoii 
lost or won in thtit desperate game.” 

” She saved us for her own ends,” broke in the baroness, with 
passion, and with no consideration for my interests; cold, calcu- 
latiu*r as as she is, only prudence and circumspection liave ever act- 
uated In r. Do not hope to w-in me over to Elizabeth. She divided 
ms 1 hated her. That 1 haled her only proved that 1 loved you 
Do you condemn me for my affection even?” 

“You knovv that I condemn you in no part of your conduct 
toward me, he continued; “a man can but have softness in his 
heait for he woman who loves him. Ko, Tlier^se: but 1 hold you 
i« sponsible for the iifter-loneliness and sorrow of Elizabeth’s hfe 
^ saved her father’s honor-^ 

ahln ^ all that 18 dearest to a woman, and from immeasur- 
able evils. How did you requite her? 

His voice trembled, his eyes grew dim, as he added 

1 separated us by a falsehood that imbit tered my heart toward 
my child, and made me appear her worst enemy. ^Vhen after a 
necessary absence, I returned to Ischl, she was gone no one knew 
whither. Do you deny that you drove hcrawuiy? Do you deny 
that you robbed her alike of her lover and of her father?^ And bv 
what means?-pby whispering slanders to the one— by garblino- a leL 

ter o the other, so as to make him appear the con tern ne^cd’ his 
daughtei s honor. A letter that 1 wrote to you, perfectly harmless 
m Itself, was copied so dexterously, and with suk base interpoS- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


185 


tlons, that in it 1 proved mpeif as alike regardless of parental duty, 
of good faith, of any principles whatsoever. Elizabeth Delieved that, 
for your sake, 1 was willing to countenance the baron’s undisguised 
admiration — to purchase, in fact, a short lived enjoyment by the sac. 
rifice of her honor and her peace. Oh! Therese, Therese! have no 
bad dreams come to you aftei such dark work? Have j^ou never 
repented the heartli that you made desolate, and the heart you tried 
to break?” 

She looked up to him with something of her old bewitching 
beauty, with something of the met ting tenderness which he had 
never yet found strength to withstand, and answ^ered, in low tones — 

” Have you forgotten that we w^ere happy for a little while? Have 
we not had nur dreams also? 1 loved you — to be loved by you for a 
day, for an hour even, seemed to me worth the winning— but an ol)- 
stacle stood in the way, and I threw it recklessly aside. Can you 
blame me — you for whom I dared so much! Is not the strength of 
love to be measured rather by its power for evil than for good?’* 

” No,” he answered, fierce’y; ‘‘ no, a hundred times, no. 1 have 
often done wrong; 1 have seldom acted up to the incontestable creed 
of right in my mind, and 1 have thoroughly enjoyed life at inter- 
vals, perhaps no man more so.‘ But 1 should be a happier man now, 
had I always obeyed the broad and homely principles of rectitude. 
The ancients had a superstitious reverence for the threshold of their 
temples, and never placed the left foot on it. 1 see here, Therese, 
an anrdogy to our common Christian life; and 1 believe, with the 
wrorshipers of xApollo, that, as the first footsteps set under evil au- 
spices never reached the adytum, so, with us, the first willful sin 
leads further and further from the presence and peace of God. 1 
believe nuw that every falling away from the rigid dictates of con- 
science is so much aggregate of bitterness iu the cup of life, to be 
tasted at the last, when jmuth, and bloom, and success are gone. 
There is no throwing awa}’’ those dregs, Therese, 1 have done good 
indirectl}", and on a large scale, giving beyond my means, lifting up 
the fallen, clothing the naked, soothing the last hours of the dying. 
1 cannot remember that lever huit anyone by a harsh or unjust 
w^ord. Yet because 1 have been too weak to follow out my better 
and less impulsive duties — too careless in living up to the every-day 
standard of virtue; too lax in fulfilling the simple obligations of a 
citizen — these impulsive benevolences, these ofi-shoots of good, give 
me little satisfaction now. Believe me, Therese, and 1 speak to j’ou 
as a friend only, and without any reference tc our respective posi- 
tions either in the past or the present— the most generous soul, the 
most tender heart, the most liberal hand, avail nothing without in- 
tegrity of purpose. We may console ourselves in youth and in mid- 
dle life, by, so to say, an illegitimate virtue; but iu old age Truth in 
its nakedness and beauty takes affright at it, and leaves us sitting in 
dust and ashes, and pione humiliation. We may defy the preju- 
dices and authority of men, and set up for ourselves codes and stat- 
utes in wdiicli pleasantness takes the place of principle, and lo.ose lib- 
eralities of sentiment take the place of universal charily and love of 
human kind. No matter— wm deceive ourselves — w’c deceive others 
—we cannot deceive God, or flee from His silent reproach at the 
last.” 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


186 

“ My religion has more heart in it than yours,” she said, eagerly; 
“ and therefore must be better adapted for weak, ever failing creat- 
ures as we are. We Romanists deal with human nature as it is— - 
you Protestants with human nature as it ought to be,” 

“ It is not a question of religion,” he replied, in a sorrowful voice; 
” but a question of cause and effect. As surely as the stone thrown 
forward moves in a parabola— as surely as the circumference of a 
circle is in proportion to its diameter— so surely must the evil, or a 
vicarious one, come back to the pro;;ector. But of this no more. 
You and 1 have sowed, and must reap accordingly.” 

A long pause ensued. At length the baroness broke it impatiently. 

“ You know all — have you any more reproaches to make? Are 
we to part in peace or in war at the last?” 

” That is as you yourself decide, Madame de Ladenburg; if you 
are willing to give up Katchen, 1 have no further reference to make 
to the past— for you, as well as for myself, 1 am content to have it 
henceforth buried.” 

” And if 1 am not wMlling?” 

“ ] shall use it as best 1 can to frustrate your intentions. Mr. and 
Mrs. Brill would hardly leave Katchen in the hands of you, after my 
most urgent dissuasions to the contrary.” 

“Good, easy Mr. and Mrs. Brill like me too much to be set 
against me from hearing a i-aked- up story ot old days, if that is what 
you mean. Had they not trusted me implicitly, think you they 
would let Katchen remain in my charge now? And you forget your 
own shortcomings, my friend— your bills, your broken promises, 
your enemies without number. No — do not play with £re; let me 
go my own wa 3 "s in peace.” 

” \es!” he repeated; “ yes, we will each go our own way in peace 
— after a little; but first, 1 must save Katchen.” 

Just then, as if a white dove had suddenly alighted at his feet, 
piping joyfull}^ because the cage was left far behind, Katchen her- 
self stood before him— not the rosy, radiant Katchen he had first 
known, but a Katchen more lovely still, with a woman’s sweet trem- 
bling love in her eyes, and a woman’s smile, halt of joy, half of 
doubt on her lips. 


CHAPTER XLYIl. 

” You will save me!” she cried, stretching out her hands toward 
him; ” yes, you do not care for me any longer, but you will still be 
my friend — 1 feel sure of that I” 

The baroness, who had been accustomed to surprises all her life, 
took this crowning one with extreme evenness of temper, at least as 
far as could be seen from without; she also held out her hands, 
though not far enough to reach Katchen. 

” My deal girl, this is a little rash of 3 mu,” she said, in a fond, 
chiding way; ” really 1 feel as if 1 ought to scold — 1 could find it in 
my heart to do so. But are you gifted with divination that you find 
us in this secluded spot?” 

“ 1 thought I heard your voices from the window,” replied Katch- 
en, still addressing Dr. Jacob with a deep blush; ” and 1 stole 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


187 

down-stairs, and saw you go this way, 1 have been resting under the 
trees a long, long time in sight; but you never looked round, and at 
last 1 summoned courage to come. Oh ! 1 have been so unhappy ! 
I have wanted your help so much?” 

8he looked up wistfully, as if expecting a smile of welcome, a 
hand-clasp, oi a kindly word; but none came. For two or three 
minutes she thus waited, the large tears gathering in her eyes, the 
suppressed sobs heaving her bosom, the little hands trembling. 

Still Dr. Jacob’s face was averted. Then a long pitiful look of 
suffering came to her eye— a look of inexpressible wonder and de- 
spair. 

” 1 would not have come,” she said, half choking with childlike 
passion, ” to make you angiy or vexed; but I thought you were too 
fond of me for that; it is such a little wdiile ago since you always 
gave me the kindest word and smile of ai^v one, and 1 do not know 
what 1 have done to deserve your anger Jiow. It w'as wicked to 
leave my home, but 1 did it out of my Jove for you — all the wrong 1 
have done has been out of my love for you. Baron Josef sa3^s I 
have disgraced myself. 1 thought lightly of his wmrds when he 
spoke them; my heart will break since 1 find that you think as he 
does. But he and Madame de Ladenburg have a right to say cruel 
things to me, because 1 have repulsed them, I have done it all for 
your sake, and 3'^el ever one is kinder to me than you — ” 

“Yes,” replied Dr. Jacob, sadly, ‘‘every one is kinder to you 
than 1 am,” 

There was a silence of some moments, during which Madame de 
Dadenburg’s soft hand stroked the young girl’s hair. 

‘‘ My dear Katchen,” she said, gently, ‘‘ indeed 3^11 are misjudg- 
ing Dr. Jacob. Remember, darling, that very many and great ob- 
jections exist to —to his marrying you: you are young and do not 
know the world, but he is a man of experience, and, out of his vef3' 
fondness for 3’-ou, hesitates on the threshoid of such an imprudence,’" 

Katchen broke from her caressing hands with flaming eyes. 

‘‘ Don’t speak to me, Madame de Ladenburg — least of all, don’t 
speak of Dr. Jacob just now ' — 1 cannot bear it. You have only kind 
motives, 1 know; but 1 shall appear ungrateful if 3’’ou tr3'’ to com- 
fort me by d/jfending him. Oh! nerhaps 1 am wrong and wicked, 
and he has never deserved my an^cr, after all. ’ 

“Child,” said Dr. Jacob, “no reproaches from your lips could 
hurt me as your confidence has done; not because I have been false 
to you, Katchen, but because my whole past life is unworih3^ of it. 
Could you know that past life, could you read my heart, 3'ou would 
feel that this apparent falseness is just the one truthful, blameless 
feeling of which I need not be ashamed. False as 1 have been to 
the wmrld, to society, to 1113’- better nature, 1 have been true to 3'ou, 
and true only to you, my Katchen; because 1 have been true, and 
We are separated now— because .1 loved you as my child, we must be 
separated in the future. Could i bring 3mu to shame and sorrow 
and trials numberless— 3011, so pure, so young, so unfit to bear 
them? Could 1 take you out of 30111- youth and innocence for my 
owm selfish ends? No, no, 1 am not good — 1 am not noble, 1 am 
quite unworthy of your atfection— and 1 must leave you.” 

She di-ew nearer to him and said in a timid, beseeching voice— 


188 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


“ But you do not go alone. There is some one else who loves you 
very much, who — ” 

Dr. Jacob half caught up her meaning with a melancholy smile. 

“ You would fain believe me happy, my poor child; well, I shall 
not be alone — 1 shall have a nurse when 1 am ill, and a companion 
when I am tired ot mv own thoughts — a companion, moreover, who 
will care tor my comforts beyond her own." 

“ You will have a wife, and that is why you are so cold to me,” 
Katchen said, a true woman’s jealousy and reproach underljdng her 
words; “ you should have told me this at first — it was not generous, 
not just.” 

” A wife, Katchen 1” 

The baroness tapped Katchen’s shoulder with a merry mocking 
laugh, and repeated the words, too, adding — 

“ This then is the rqason of your melancholy reverie, little 
Katchen! Well, a woman is a woman all the world over, no mat- 
ter w’hether she has seen fifteen summers or fifty! 1 could have re- 
lieved your cares in a moment, had you only confided them to me, 
Katchen. Dr. Jacob may have had a dozen sweethearts in his time, 
but he has certainly no wife: you must be thinking of his daugh- 
ter.” 

Katchen’s cheeks crimsoned, and for a moment she stood still, 
overcome with shame and bewilderment. Then she drew nearer Dr. 
Jacob, and bending her golden head low over his hands, said, half 
in joy, and half in penitence — 

” 1 felt that 1 could never be your wife, that 1 am not worthy; 
but wiiat shall hinder me from still being as your chila? Y"ou have 
a daughter wiio will look upon me as her sister, tor your sake, ana 
we might live so happily together. When you are out, we can 
arrange your room, and make little dishes for you that you like; and 
in the evenings you will read to us. Ah! w'e shall be so happy! 1 
can play pretty w’ell on the piano — the music of Mendelssohn and 
Schubert, the composers you like best; that will please you in the 
twilight; and 1 will improve my handw'riting so as to be able to 
copy letters for you, and be of use. Tnere will be enough for us 
twm to do — yoiir daughter and 1 — and yet vre shall never feel that 
w'c serve you well enough. Shall it be so — will 3’ou let me call you 
father?” ^ 

‘‘My Katchen, listen,” replied ^Dr. Jacob, much moved: “such 
a life as this can never be for me — you 1 trust, will have all and 
more than the happiness pictured in it, but you could have little 
happiness either as my wife or as my adopted child. Ah! how will- 
ingly 1 w'ould have your innocent lips call father, how gladly 
would 1 accept the services given bj’' you. wdth such love and joyful - 
ness— but, Katchen, 1 dare not take you with us, 1 am not good 
enough, not happy enough. Hard as it is for you, my poor dar- 
ling, it must be; this one meeting is our parting. And why? — be- 
cause 1 am not good, and honorable, and true as you once thought 
me — because I am unable and unfit to call myself your protector. 
For jmur sake, dear child, 1 would gladly feel young again, would 
gladiy cancel the years that are past, and the thoughts and deeds 
wnicii have made them unworthy of j’ou; but 1 cannot do this — it 
is too late, 1 can only recoil from the Past as 1 have made it, and 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


189 


take the dreary Future as it comes. But for you, Katchen, life may 
be beautiful, and good, and happy yet — mmt be, since you are so 
inndcent and lovjng; forget me, forget everything connected with 
me, and hope afresU.” 

The young girl drew nearer to him, weeping bitterly. 

“ 1 could not it I tried,” she said; ” how could 1 wish to forget 
you? — even if you forsake me now — ” 

” Katchen,” cried Dr. Jacob, in a passion of reproach, “ if I for- 
sake you now — though,” he added, very sorrow! ully, ” forsaking is 
hardly the word — it will be just the one self-sacrificing deed jot my 
life. 1 dare not drag you, sweet one, down to the k vel of my 
abasement; if 1 dared, 1 were the most heartless wretch under the 
sun.” 

He motioned her away, and covered his face with his hands; but 
she clung to him, forgetting the presence of the baroness, forgetting 
everything in the abandonment of her grief. 

“ Forgive all that 1 have caused you to suffer, and be happy for 
my sake,” he said, softl}^ kissing her. “It is better so, None in 
all my life have 1 loved so w’ell, and yet we must part. Farewell.” 

When the baroness, who was too well bred to remain within ap- 
parent earshot all this time, saw Dr. Jacob moving away alone, she 
returned to Katchen, all caresses and smiles. 

‘‘Don’t cry, darling,” she said; ‘‘you shall not be forced into 
anything against your wilt, and by an*d-by, who knows, Josef may 
appear no worse than other men. Be brave, little one; you are not 
the first woman whose heart has been nearly broken by'^ Dr. Jacob.” 

And Katchen’s pride did what her self-control, unaided, could 
not have done. 


CHAPTER XLVHI. 

At noontime the same day, Professor Beer made his appearance 
in the apartments of the Brill family. He found Mrs. Brill suiting 
shirts and stockings tor the laundress, Aggie reading the new’spaper, 
Flory writing down the week’s expenditure (that young lady being 
housekeeper), Mr. Brill penciling his Sunday’s sermon on the backs 
of old letters, and Harry and Emmy playing at marbles. Nothing 
could equal the suavity and good-humor with which Aggie’s old 
master was welcomed, nor the interest testified in his narrative. 

At the first mention of Katchen’s tears, Mr. Brill jumped to his 
feet, in extreme agitation. 

“ My dear Emily,” he said, with as much reproach as he dared 
put into the adjective, did I not say, over and over again, that 1 
ought to fetch Katchen myself? What do w’e know about Madame 
de Ladenburg? Pleasant, accomplished, stylish, and that sort of 
thing, she undoubtedly is— but whether a good wmmau, or trust- 
worthy, never seems to^have troubled your head. 1 wish, my dear, 
vou had listened to me in the first instance.” 

" ‘‘ But, papa,” said Flory, sedately, ‘‘ Katchen was in the wrong 
to ruD off to Heidelberg as she did— remember that.” 

‘‘ WTong or right, she belongs to us; and the baroness is a woman 
of the world, of whom we know next to nothing. Don’t you hear 


190 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


from the Herr Professor that she was unhappy, and worried to 
death about Baron Josef/' 

“Well, Tom,” broke in Mrs. Brill, “1 do tliink you take the 
matter rather au sevieux; the baroness is not an o^re, and Katchen 
stands no chance of being starved, poisoned, or beaten; she may 
hear rather more said in praise of Baron Josef than she likes, 'tis 
true — but he won’t carry her oft and marry her nolens mlem; and, 
ot course, 1 shall allow her to follow out her own inclinations ulti- 
mately. How could jmu go to Heidelberg, when you had two 
cliuroh-meelings to attend? How could 1 go, with all the children 
hete— and the journey and hotel expenses would have been a dozen 
tlialers at ieastl The baroness kindly offered to relieve me of the 
task, as she was bound thither; she has money enough at command, 
and nothing else to do but spend it — shoulduT 1 have been an idiot 
to refuse such an offer?” 

“ I shall go to-night to bring Katchen back anyhow,” rejoined 
Mr Brill, somewhat sulkily. 

“ You have my hearty concurrence, my dear,” added his wife, 
with the greatest good-nature. ” Katchen will doubtless value her 
home a thousand times more after this temporary absence, and I 
hope we shall find her a good husband in time. What do you 
think, Herr Professor?” 

The professor declined an opinion, and Aggie said, pertly — 

‘‘ You will at least owm that Katchen is pretty. Herr Professor, 
a Idnd ot Madonna— in fact, with blue, sleepy eyes, and yellow 
hair! Gentlemen admire that style ot beauty!’.’ 

‘‘ And other kinds of beauty, too,” added the professor, eml old- 
ened by Miss Aggie’s attentions; and that young lady, being at a loss 
for beaux just then, contrived to keep up a batlledoor and' shuttle- 
cock conversation with her old maker, till the bed rang for 
d’hote, which he joined. 

Whilst the professor was pleading for Katchen, and Dr. Jacob sat 
with the baroness beside tlie broken fountain, Elizabeth busied her- 
self in making purchases for the coming journey, and in writing to 
her old friend, Praulein Fink. She was very sad. Vague fears and 
misgivings forced themselves to her mind regarding the future; for 
she could not believe that her father had done witn the wmrld yet, 
the world that had flattered him, fondled him, forgiven him, kept 
him to itself for so many years. She saw, with secret satisfaction, 
his evident weariness and desire for repose; but she stood m fear of 
his master-passion— the love ot power. Oh! she thought, if he 
were only able to enjoy simple pleasures, and, above all. could find 
in a library what he could never find in life— then all would be well! 

She was right. Had Dr. Jacob made friends with books, and ap- 
plied his fine intellect to higher pursuits than the study of man for 
his own small and selfish ambitions, the world would never have 
been so bitter to him. In our libraries we meet the highest intellects 
without fear, and are not crushed by them; we bring our own sus- 
ceptibilities and dreams into the confidence of the poet we love best, 
and feel half-poets by so doing. With Plato and Homer, with Pas- 
cal and Moliere, with Spenser and Newton, we are alike at home 
unembarrassed, and purified. All good books are Bibles. ’ 

In the midst of Elizabeth’s melancholy thoughts, a visitor was an- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


191 


noimced, whom she little expected to see — viz., Dr. Paidus. He 
shook hands with her, expressed liis satisfaction at finding her at 
home, and then plunged at once into the pith and manow of his 
errand. 

“ 1 believe,” he said, with a slight smile, “ that it is Dr. Jacob’s 
daughter whom 1 have the pleasure of addressing?” 

” Yes, 1 am Dr, Jacob’s daughter,” she replied, not without a 
certain proud sadness. 

“Miss Macartney, pardon— Miss Jacob,” he continued, “I will 
be plain with 3mu, and state the motive of my visit at once. We are 
friends, are we not, and understand each other? You love mj^ 
child, and will therefore more readil^’^ excuse anything 1 may say to 
hurt your feelings. Connie loves you, and for many other reasons 
1 am bound to show you respect and consideration. 1 repeat, we are 
friends?” 

Elizabeth gave him her hand in reply. He went on in a business- 
like way — 

“ W hen, some months since, you declared it your intention to leave 
Frankfort, was not that intention formed on account of Dr. Jacob’s 
arrival there?” 

“ It was.” 

“ And on account of the arrival of another person — the Baroness 
de Ladenberg?’' 

She half rose, with a flush upon her cheeks, and said, impetu- 
ously — 

“ Is it necessary, is it right to question me thus? Oh! Dr, Paulus, 
1 know he has committed many grievous faults, but he is my father, 
and so dear to me— forbear!” 

“ 1 would forbear if it were possible,” answered Dr. Paulus, with 
the imperturbable face of an operating surgeon; “ and I ought, be- 
fore asking such questions, to have stated ni}^ reason for doing so; 1 
will, however, hasten to repa'r mj^ omission. You must know that 
your father’s debts in Frankfort — ” 

“ Debts!” repeated Elizabeth, turning very pale; “ were they not 
paid?” 

“ Some were paid; and far better would it have been had they re- 
mained standing. Do you understand me. Miss Jacob?” 

Her bps trembled, and the words slie spoke failed to reach his ear. 
He could not bear the look of misery and shame that came over her> 
face, and rose to the window. B.y and-l\y, she said, faintly — 

“ Tell me all— it is right, that 1 should know.” 

Before proceeding, he glanced at her; she was white and over- 
wrought, but he read in her firmly-closed mouth and steadfast eyes 
a courage that was ready to encounter the worst. 

“ The debts that remain,” he continued, “ are sufficiently large to 
cause anxiety to the creditors, though they are trifling in comparison 
to those that were paid, as is supposed, as is proved a'fnost beyond 
certainty, by Missionary Funds in your father’s possession. J am 
sorry to make such communications, iVliss Jacob; but sooner or later 
you would have learned them, and 1 cannot fulfill the purpose of my 
errand wdthout full explanations on my part as well as on yours. 
Perhaps 1 can still in some measure help you; 1 have come to do so 
if 1 can. 1 must first, however, leain some particulars as to Dr, 


192 - DOCTOR JACOB. 

Jacob’s previous history. The fact is those of his ■well-wishers who 
yet stand by him will take an active part in his behalf, if they find 
that his past life deserves it. We know him to be eloquent, leained. 
ciiarital le, full ot social amiabilities; but we would fain know 
more Believe me. vou will best serve his interests, and, conse- 
quently your own, if you consent to answer such questions as 1 put 

to you,’' ^ - 

‘‘ 1 will trust you,” she said; “ Bod knows I have need of your 
help and advice. Ask me wdiat you please,” 

Dr. Paul us took out his note book, and commenced an investiga- 
tion. wdiich is owed in justice to the reader. 

” Your sudden intention ot leaving Frankfort w^’as formed in con- 
sequence of 3 "Our father’s liaison with Madame de Ladenburg, was 
it not?” 

“ 1 feared that such a liaison existed,” she replied, and for 
many reasons was averse to meeting Madame de Ladenburg; but as 
far as she is concerned, ray lather's conduct did not disgrace me, 
Thtiewasno liaison. Dr. Paul us.” 

He looked up sharply. 

‘‘ My dear madame, Dr. Jacob accompanied her in her drives, 
was constantly at her house, followed hm* to the Bergstrasse.” 

“ There was no liaison," she repeated, firmly. 

He made a note of her statement, and continued — 

” Some circumstances of a serious nature had previously divided 
you from your father— he w^as living in apparent ease, you were 
governess in a day-school — how are w’e to account lor such a state of 
things? Dr. Jacob’s best friends cannot help throwing the balance 
of their opinions in your favor.” 

She answered, as if with great difficult}' — 

” It is a long story, sir, and 1 would sooner submit to torture than 
repeat it; but you have a claim on my confidence, and 1 will go over 
the unwelcome ground as quickly as 1 can. 1 have said that my fa- 
ther’s name is unjustly linked too closely with that of Baroness de 
Ladenburg; but she has been my enemy for years, and my enemy 
because 1 opposed anythmg like intrigue between herself and him. 
Ultimately she divided us. This wuis seven years ago, in the year 
185—; a few months after our acquaintance began. We were stay- 
ing at a watering-place in Austria, my father, myself, and— and — 
an Fnglishman, who was to have been my husband. It is usual in 
such places for the inmates of the same hotel to form intimacies; 
there was therefore nothing extraordinary in the tact of many pleas- 
ure excursions being arranged between the party of the baroness and 
ourselves. Enough to tell you that this woman conceived the most 
violent fancy for my father — a fancy which led her into intrigue after 
intrigue for her own end. She falsified circumstances so as to con- 
vince me that my father was my bitterest enemy, and she convinced 
me that 1 wds the hardest and most nndutiful daughter.” 

” Then the baroness deceived you both?” said Dr. Paulus, biting 
his lips in perplexity. 

‘‘ Yes, by making me believe he was her lover, and her unscrupu- 
lous lover; and, what is worse still, by making me believe that he 
countenanced her husband’s admiration for myself. Oh! Dr. Paulus, 
it IS a dreary history — have you not heard enough?” ' 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


193 

^‘Answer two questions,” he said, kindly, ‘‘and then we will 
leave the baroness and all connected with her. M^as Dr. Jacob quite 
ignorant of her double dealing in the metier? Was he really blame- 
less in his conduct toward you?” 

‘‘Yes, a hundr.-d times, yes,” she answered; “he was absent 
when she practiced the deceit on me, and had therefore no oppor- 
tuniiy of clearing himself. I imagined him to be cruel, cowardly, 
and cold; how could 1 do otherwise, when she showed me a letter in 
which lie declared hiuiself devoted to her, and ready to sacrifice me 
for her sake — V” 

“ The letter was forged!” 

“ It was forged, naturally, but 1 had no suspicions of fraud, and, 
worked into the utmost anauish, passion, and despair, by its poison, 
1 left my home. For seven years 1 supported myself as a governess, 
hiding my place of abode and only gaining trace of my father now 
and then. They met again and again at Isclil, at Baden, at Vienna; 
1 saw neither till a couple of months ago.” 

Dr. Paulus then asked several questions relating to Dr. Jacob s 
earlier history, the bearings of which can be given in a tew words. 
Elizabeth dwelt with some natural pride upon the brilliant period of 
her father’s youth, when, leaving Oxford with high honors, he first 
took society by storm, winning hearts as easily, perhaps easier, in the 
salon than in the pulpit , how he was courted by the world, and how 
he courted it; how he became the most fashionable of fashionable 
preachers, numbering dukes, statesmen, authors, and skeptics, among 
his congregation; how he entered into aristocratic circles, and mar- 
ried the penniless daughter of an Irish peer; how he impoverished 
himself % a luxurious menage and a lavish charity, and tried to re- 
trieve such expenditure by speculation; how he lived unhappily 
with his wife, and separated from her after the first six years of 
marriage; how he finally left London on account of pecuniary diffi- 
culties, passed some time in a country village, fulfilling there the 
duties of pastor, unexcept ionably; how he traveled, and then after- 
ward accepted a chaplaincy in the East, where he lived with his 
daughter till the period of his acquaintance with Madame de Laden- 
burg— all these facts need only be skimmed over for the reader’s 
benefit. 

“ And now,” said Dr. Paulus, when Elizabeth’s recital was ended, 
“ 1 can only thank you for the confidence you have reposed in me, 
and assure you it shall be used solely with a view towaid assisting 
Dr. Jacob in his difficulties. 1 confess 1 do not exactly see my way 
clear at present, but 1 will do my best; meantime, let me advise 
you, as a friend, to quit Heidelberg at once. He is not safe here.” 

She looked up with a new and sudden terror in her eyes. 

“They will not put him in prison?” she whispered. “Oh! it 
cannot, must not come to that!” 

“ We will hope and trust not, my dear madam,” answered Dr. 
Paulus, rising; “ but remember my advice, and act up to it. 1 give 
it to you without authority, mind; I have no right whatever to warn 
you, even were 1 doubly assured of the necessity of warning—” 

“ Tliank you — you are very good,” she replied, oflering her hand, 
which he shook, and then hurried toward the door brisRly. 

7 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


194 

Just then a slow but firm step sounded on the stairs. Dr. PauluS 
recognized it at once, and changed countenance. 

“ Your father!” he murmured, in a low tone. “ 1 would rather 
not see him, dear Miss Macartney— Miss Jacob. I cannot see him.” 

Putting her finger on her lips to implore silence, Elizabeth went to 
the door with the intention of preventing Dr. Jacob from entering, 
but she was too late. As she touched the handle, he pushed it trom 
without, and belore the lace ot Dr. Paulus had changed trom its ex- 
pression of consternation, he stood before them. It was strange then 
to observe the way in which these \wo men changed places with each 
other. Dr. Jacob, from an inner consciousness of humiliated pride 
and self -degradation, grew rigidly cold and haughty; though in his 
heart he bowed down before the rectitude of the other’s life. Just 
because he compared it to his own wdth such disadvantage, because 
he felt how much healthier and nearer Heaven was this honest, 
plodding Christian career, than that of his own startling, meteor- 
like success; because he remembered his last and worst sin, almost 
as it were a sin against Dr. Paulus, did he shrink from w^ant ot a 
better self -dignity into self-contempt, which shows a surface prour^er 
than pride. 

Dr. Paulus, on the contrary, erect, cheerful, full ot confidence, 
and personal dignity as he was on all ordinary occasions, now drooped 
his crest, and folded his wings like a conquered fighting bird. All 
the light went out from his eyes, all the briskness from his square 
symmetrical figure, all the authority and elasticity from his voice. 

“ Forgive me if 1 intrude,” he said, utterly at a loss for compos- 
ure; “ 1 came in the hope of being of service— that is, I will do all 
within my power—” 

“ You are very kind,” broke in Dr. Jacob, cutting his friend’s 
sentence in halves with an icy voice; “ but 1 cannot accept your 
kindness, since 1 have forfeited all right to it. Thank God, lam not 
too old 10 work yet — 1 can still, peihaps, pay my debts without the 
aid ot charity — and,” here he blushed a little, “ earn back the money 
1 have misappropriated. See, 1 have a little of it left.” 

He emptied the contents ot his purse on the table, in all amounting 
to about fifty pounds, and then added to the heap his rare diamond 
ring, his antique breast-pin, his watch and seal; Dr. Paulus watch- 
ing him with disconcerted eyes as he proceeded to fold up both money 
and trinkets in paper. 

“ Let them go to the fund which 1 have robbed,” he said, holding 
out the packet to him; “ it is not vain to hope that 1 may replace the 
rest in a few^ months. 1 will do my best. To promise more would 
be useless.” 

An embariassed silence followed, during which Dr. Paulus eyed 
the folded paper forced upon him, as if it contained hot coals; at 
length he rose to go, bade adieu to Elizabeth cordially, then advanced 
to her father with outstretched hand. 

“ Let me wish you well at parting, sir,” he said, in a nervous 
voice; “ tor we shall never perhaps come again in each other’s way. 
God bless you!” 

The outstretched hand was not taken, but at the last words, spok- 
en as they were with honest, impetuous, manly feeling, a change 
came over Dr. Jacob’s features. He felt that this good man’s heart 


DOCTOE JACOB. 


195 

Still went with him, still owned him, still absolved him; in spite of 
nil that had happened, in spite of their antagonistic lives, past and to 
come, in spite of the guilt on one side and the rectitude on the other, 
nature had it all her own way now— , he warm brotherly, human 
affection gushed forth, hiding the surrounding darkness, illumining 
it, warming it, opening upon it vistas of distant light, and distant 
though not unreachable heavens. If Dr. Jacob had ever put faith 
in any man it was in Dr. Paulus, but to this point of forgiveness his 
belief had not reached. lie could not conceive a sympathy broad 
enough and strong enough to bridge over the deep gulf of difference 
lying between them; he could not think well enough of himself to 
imagine Dr. Paulus hoping for him, caring for him, making al'ow- 
ance for him still. The very reason of his coldness, was this feeling. 
Had Dr. Paulus been less virtuous, he would have held up his head 
in spite of his virtue; had Dr. Paulus been less modest, he would 
not have wanted for self-confidence in his presence. 

His heart was melted now to that iioint which renders the strong 
man like a weak woman, the man of the wwld like a little child. 
He took the hand held out to him, a hand as warm and cordial in its 
clasp as it had ever been, and said — 

“ The worst of ail is, that 1 have played traitor to you. For the 
sake of your little ones, forgive me.” 

Men of the strongest mental powers, men who would have suffered 
martyrdom for a principle in the Dark Ages, men who meet pain and 
death, and all the things most terrible to us, with unflinching eyes, 
are just those men least capable of hearing certain emotions, hardly 
of pleasure, yet akin to it, hardly of pain, yet painful. For instance, 
to feel that Dr. Jacob gave to him, what he gave no one else, name- 
iy, the sincere penitence of his richly-gifted though erring nature — 
to feel that his sorrow, his tears, his trembling words, his shaking 
hands, were all as so much homage to his own less noble but juster, 
steadier self — never had Dr. Paulus been a sadder and a humbler 
man. He measured generously the great difference between them, 
giving the other his full measure of superior gifts, his grand persua- 
sive voice, his large and liberal mind, his overflowing charity, his 
sweet humanities, his capabilities of wisdom and virtue. Oh! to 
what pitch of perfection might he not have arrived!— w'hilst to him- 
self no such possibilities had been granted, yet he was walking on 
smooth pastures of self-respect, ease, public esteem! 

lie did not trust himself to speak, but his moist eyes and quiver- 
ing lips told Dr. Jacob as much, perhaps more, than words could 
have done. The two men clasped hands and looked in each other’s 
eyes silently, each reading the other’s thoughts, each feeling that it 
was for the last time, each sad that their parting should have come, 
and come thus! 

Dr. Paulus huiried aw^ay, full of thoughts which he communi- 
cated to no one — thoughts which made him grave for days after, 
which impressed, in spme degree, all the after-phases of his outward 
as well as his inner life. 


196 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


CHAPTER XLIX. 

Ab soon as Dr. Paul us hart gone, Dr. Jacob begged to be lelt 
alone; and Elizabeth, feeling thal she could not urge upon him the 
necessity for leaving Heidelberg just tiien, reflected long and ear- 
nestly on the intelligence she lad just received. She was a woman ol 
great energy and promptitude, excessively proud as to fufillment of 
duty, and scrupulously careful as to justice in monetary transac- 
tions. All her life this last principle hud waged war with the oppo- 
site one ruling her father’s actions; but in leaving Fianktort. the 
citj’^ of so many successes and humiliations, she had hoped that he 
would begin life on a simpler and more wholesome regime, spending 
sparely, and asking credit of no one. She was bitterly disappointed 
to find that he had left heavy obligations behind him. Had he 
clearly and candidly explained the stated his affairs, however culpa- 
ble he might have proved himself in so doing, she would have loved 
him b(dter for the confession, and set to work with the double 
strength of love and pride to release him from difficulty. But this 
reticence on hia part, hurt her more than the most startling revela- 
tions could have done. She would set to work no less strenuously 
now, though with less heart. 

Revolving many praciical womanly plans in her mind for making 
money and earning comforts for him, she put on her bonnet and 
walked toward the town. It occurred to her that whilst at the Poste 
Restante, the official had started on hearing her name, and at the 
same time interchanged a look with one of nis colleagues. This cir- 
cumstance awakened her suspicions, and with the natural quickness 
of her sex, she immediately linked it to the threatened danger sug- 
gested by Dr, Paul us. Were they watched? Would her father be 
tracked like a common thief? Would he be hurried off to prison 
just as he had crossed the threshold of a newer, calmer, better life? 

She was right. They were watched. 

Before leaving the market-place, she stopped at a fruit-stall, in 
order to look round, and then caught sight of a tall, slim figure in 
the distance, that had-been well known to her in Frankfort. Per- 
haps our readers may remember Dr. Jacob’s visit to the Rbuier, de- 
tailed in an early chaptir of this story, and the introduction he re- 
ceived upon that occasion to two police functionaries, one of whom 
boasted of an extraordinary tallness of stature and vigilance of eye. 
This gentleman, wearing the sword and peculiar uniform of his pro- 
fession, would have attracted notice any where — firstly, for hisgirafife- 
like elevation above his fellows; and secondly, for his wonderfully 
bright and observant eyes, that seemed to have the power of seeing 
everything at once, and not only the shell but the pith and marrow 
of it also. Elizabeth Jacob had little difficulty in understanding 
his sudden advent in Heidelberg. Her father’s debts had placed 
him in the power of the law, and its agents were on his track. 

She had a very ready store of expedients, and after a short but de- 
cisive deliberation, the following points seemed clear to her: — 


DOCTOR JACOB. 197 

Firstly — The only chance of present escape lay in giving her 
watcher a false clew. 

Secondly— The only chance of final escape, lay by the Neckar, 
since the rail would already have been made unsafe. 

Thirdly — The only chance of escape at all lay in promptness. 

Haying followed out these conclusions to their ultimate end and 
practicability, she valked leisurely toward her lodging. We have 
before mentioned that it was situated in a narrow street leading to 
the less frequented entrance of Heidelberg Castle, fronting green 
heights, and iiaving narrow gardens at the back stretching toward 
the river. Elizabeth Jacob took in at a glance all the advantages 
and disadvantages of this position. Could she once succeed in 
baffling her vigilant pursuer, so as to gain an hour’s time, all would 
be well; ana if she succeeded in her object, it must be by making 
nse of the river. But the difficulty of pei*suading Dr. Jacob to 
flight, added to the difficulty of getting him quickly to the water’s 
edge, was the heaviest she had to encounter. Her first step was to 
ascertain the amount of danger she should incur by blinding the peo- 
ple of the house as to their movements. 

“If the Hausfrau is at home,’’ she said to the cook, who was 
bearing in water from the well, “ tell her that she may prepare coftee 
for us in an hour’s time; and, Lischeu, should a gentleman call here 
inquiring for Dr. Jacob, say that he will find us in the Castle Gar- 
dens, for we are going thither at once.’’ 

Lischeu disappeaied in the culinary regions, and Elizabeth entered 
her own apartmetits, locking the glass door after her, and drawing 
the curtains closely behind it. so us to convey the idea of absence to 
passere-by. Hastily collecting her money and valuables, she sought 
Dr. Jacob, who was seated in the sitting-room overlooking the gar- 
den, his hat and stick beside him, as if just laid by. 

“Dear father,’’ she said, “I want to ask a favor of you — the 
afternoon is so cool and lovely, and the river lies so temptingly be- 
fore us, humor my whim, and take a row with me.” 

“Now?’’ he as*ked, listlessly. 

“ Now,’’ she answered, opening the door of the innermost room 
that led to the garden. “ See, we have only five minutes’ walk if 
we choose this Way to the watei’s edge. Oh! be quick, lest the air 
gets too cold. Come!’’ 

She had not been able to restrain a certain agitation of manner, 
and it aroused him. 

“ You have some reasons for this— tell jne?’’ he asked, anxiously. 

“lam burning to enjoy the Neckar that Schiller loved,’’ she re- 
plied, with a forced laugh; “ and if we dela 3 % there wil be no more 
sunset on the hills. 'Was 1 not alwa^’^s passionately fond of Nature 
and poetical association? Let me have my own wa 3 ^’’ 

“ Oh! yes,’’ was the absent answer, and they entered the garden 
together. This back wa 3 ’' to the river proved by no means an entic- 
ing one, passing as; it did through many a choked-up cul-de-sac, and 
abutting upon the unventilated town shambles. Nor was the pros- 
pect fiom the landing place suggestive of pleasure-trips. No pretty 
boats or gay steamers w^ere in sight; the river was muddy and low; 
the neighboring slaughter-houses and fishermen’s beer-houses ex- 
haled unwholesome smells and sounds; the shore swarmed with 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


198 

squabblinir cbidren, barking dogs, and wretched geese; excepting 
one or two dingy craft, laden with fruit and vegetables, there was 
nothing to convey the idea of any possible transit. 

Dr. Jacob shrugged his shouders. 

“ We have come to the wrong place,” he said, ” and had better- 
cross the bridge, and enjoy a pleasant walk instead of this mythical 
row, Elizabeth. Anyhow let us get out of the fearful atmosphere 
prevalent here by the quickest possible route — it is stifling.” 

Just then a boatman appeared from one of the beer-houses we have 
above mentioned, and jumping into the midst of the cabbages and 
potatoes, prepared his oars as if to set off. Acting upon a sudden 
and involuntary idea Elizabeth addressed the man in Suabish German, 
asking his destination. He replied that he was bound for a village 
a few miles up the river. 

‘‘We are desirous of going there by water to-night,” she said; 
‘‘ will you take us?” 

Germans are never shocked or surprised into incivilities at a pre- 
cedent, and the boatman assented good-natuiedly, merely adding, 
that he never had taken any such passengers before, and was doubt- 
ful if they could find a dry seat. 

‘‘Are you mad, Elizabeth?” asked Dr. Jacob, wno had under- 
stood only the drift of this dialogue; “ it is all very well to enjoy a 
sunset on the Neckar under some circumstances, but to do so in 
company with reeking krauts and onions is not to my taste, if it be 
to yours.” 

” Father,” said Elizabeth, quickly and firmly, “we wwsHeave 
Heidelberg to night. Every moment that we linger brings new 
danger with it — if you do not go with me now, the last years of your 
life, instead of being spent in happy ease with me will wear away 
miserably in prison. Come, whilst there is yet time; your best 
friends wish you to save yourself. There is nothing to keep us here 
— there is everything to drive us aw^ay. Oh! for my sake—” 

Tears were in her eyes, and a trembling eloquence was in her 
voice as she spoke, but he stood like one beyond the reach of either. 

” Come,” she reiterated, gathering fresh energy as she saw all the 
danger of his indifference, ‘‘ no time must be lost if we would save 
ourselves. For God’s sake, father, listen to me — ” 

‘‘ Why should 1 not remain, here, to bear the just conseqirences 
of ray acts? Except that you need me, there is nothing to make life 
or its privileges valuable to me. The cards that 1 won are taken 
out of rny hands, and 1 have no energy to play for them again. Let 
the worst come!” 

“No, the worst shall not come! You are old, and 1 am your 
daughter — your daughter who loves you, and who has lost jmu so 
long. My father, do not break my heart, and take from me all that 
is worth living for. Am 1 not alone in the world? Who else will 
cleave to me if you forsake me? Oh! suffer me to be happy at 
least!” 

He was touched now, and had turned away that he might not be 
pained by the sight of her tears. 

” And Katchen?” he asked. 

” Katchen has nothing to fear from the future. You could not 
serve her better than by leav.'ug her, since in forgetfulness of you 


DOCTOR JACOB. 199 

lies her best chance of happiness. If not for mine, for Katchen’s 
sake, father?” 

They entered the boat and placed themselves on a heap of hay, so 
as to be sheltered from the rising breeze. The boatman lighted his 
pipe and plied his oars. Silently and swiftly they passed under the 
shadow ot the crested Jettenblihl, and ere the hills had cooled from 
the burning flush ot the sunset, Heidelberg Castle grew faint and 
faded before their eyes, recalling a tattered crimson banner which 
some victorious Titan had set up in the upper air ages ago, and never 
wind or storm had ruflled since. 


CHAPTER L. 

Shortly after the events lecorded in our last chapter, a curious 
meeting took place at the bouse of Dr. Paulus. It was composed 
of all those persons more particularly interested in Dr. Jacob, and as 
they have for the most part already made the reader’s acquaintance, 
we will proceed without delay to report their transactions. 

Dr. Paulus is the flrst to speak. He looks a shade thinner and 
older than when we saw him flrst, and a few white hairs are per- 
ceptible in his close black locks; his voice, too, wants its accustomed 
decision and cheerfulness. It is evident that the late strange phase 
in the history of Frankfort has hurt him to an unusual degree. 

“My friends,” be began earnestly, and with a deep underlying 
vein* of feeling, ” i could weep with you to-day, if no heavier and 
more incumbent duties than those of brotherl}" love and Christian pity 
lor the lost sheep of Israel had called us together: but, if 1 read the 
Scriptures aright — and 1 have made it the first aim of my life so to do 
— when we have expended prayers and tears innumerable— y^ea, tears 
that had their source in the most hidden, most painful humiliation 
that a Christian can feel— when we have taken the bitterness of our 
tribulation between our teeth— tasted it nnd swallowed it, as so 
much physic sent from the hand of tire Great Pb^^sician of our souls, 
trusting and hoping that much healing, comfort, and spiritual bealth 
will arise to us thereby— then 1 say, my brothers, that so, being 
strengthened, and purified, and enlarged, both in Ihe muscularity of 
our bodies and souls, we shall no longer abide in the Temple, but 
come forth into the open air to do our work manfully. tSo now, 
having lamented, wept, and prayed over the transgressions of him 
whom we loved once to call friend and brother, let us no longer de- 
lay to examine the sins ot which he is accused, rendering justice 
alike to him and to those honest and hard-wmrking people whom he 
has wronged. But first, let me ask all of you here assembled, to 
bring forward no facts concerning Dr. Jacob which do not directly 
and immediately bear upon the object of our meeting; and also let 
me entreat you to remember that our meeting can have but one ob- 
ject— viz., theadmiui^^trationof justice in our small community, and 
the prevention of further such transactions and conspiracies as may 
tend to the slandering and contemning of our church, and, in con- 
sequence, to the displeasure of its great and only Head. Firstly, 
therefore, 1 call upon those persons having claims of any description 
whatever on Dr. Jacob, to lay them before me.” 


DOCTOR J7VCOB. 


WO 

Mr. Wood then rose, and with some haste and vehemence, ob- 
jected to the form of Dr. Paulus’s proposition. 

“ You affirm. Dr. Paulus,” he said, “ that we are here assembled 
to render justice to Dr. Jacob; but, as far as my experiences go, it 
is more usual to speak ot bringing a criminal to punishment in such 
cases. Again, might it not be as well to say the person calling him- 
^elf Dr. Jacol), since we are quite ignorant as to the veracity ot his 
title?” 

Dr. Paulus bit his lip. 

“It you would kindly allow me to follow out my own plaii of 
conduciing this meeting,” he answered, icily, ” such questions 
should be "ignored till a later and fitter moment. 1 am in a con- 
dition to answer you fully, and am willing to do so: but it seems to 
me that Dr. Jacob’s liabilities must necessaiil}’’ form the first object 
of inquiry. What is the opinion of other gentlemen present?” 

Mr. Brill coughed violently, and by that means escaped giving an 
opinion at all. The creditors naturally heid with Dr. Paulus; only 
one English gentleman, and he a new' -comer, supported Mr. \' ood. 

The bills were then laid on the table. Dr. Paulus glanced over 
them without remark, but Mr. Brill could not forbear a litter, and^ 
Mr. Wood broke out into open invective. 

“Thirty-fi^e florins for eau-de-Cologne alone!” he exclaimed, 
with a sneer: ” more money than my wife lias ever spent upon per- 
fumes in her life — and this sum in about eight w'eeks! Really, 
gentlemen, we must take the extreme lavishness of the man’s debts 
into consideration I Debts for bread and clothing 1 can look over, 
where there is a willingness to pay: but debts for kuickknacks 
which only shop-bo3"S and dandies ever dream of wanting — it’s dis- 
gusting!” 

” Dr. Jacob was also fond of pale kid gloves, it seems,” added 
Mr. Brill: ‘‘ for here is an account for tw'enty pair, dear me! and 1 
never had a pair of light gloves in my life! One would think he 
was born a duke!” 

” It is very singular that no article for which he got into debt was 
absolutel}’’ necessary,” said one of the new-comers; ” upon my 
word, this Dr. Jacob must have had the strangest turn of mind.” 

” The strangest want of principle, you mean,” bitterly retorted 
Mr. Wood. ” 1 have no common patience with gentlemen 
swindlers. Look here— t went j"- five thalers for carriage hire! Seven 
thalers for soda-water! Thirty thalers for books! And, upon my 
souli twenty-four thalers for a musical box!” 

When all* the bills had been examined. Dr. Paulus quietly summed 
them up and declared the sum total. No one made any remarks, 
and he then asked permission to read one or two letters, lately re- 
ceived from England, concerning Dr. Jacob. As he read on, his 
voice gained cheerfulness and his brow cleared. 

” Dr. Jacob,” so ran the first letter, ” is, as he reports himself to 
be, a clergyman of the Church of England and a Doctor ot Divinity. 
1 subjoin the register both of his ordination and assumption of de- 
gree, extracted Lorn the clergy list. He was introduced to me a fewr 
months since, whilst on a passing visit to England, by a letter from 
my brother in the church, the Bishop of J , wdio mentioned him 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


201 

as having labored zealously and conscientiously as a chaplain in the 
East for several years. I subjoin the bishop’s letter for your 
perusal. Dr. Jacob’s fore and after history is unknown to me. He 
struck me as being a remarkable man, full of eloquence in the pul- 
pit, and„ for a clergyman, unfortunately fascinating in society. It 
was said that he had formerly lived too much in the world, but his 
bearing was at all times in keeping with his profession. If Dr, 
Jacob has left your town in debt, 1 feel assured that it was not a 
premeditated offense.” 

This letter being signed by a well-known statesman, and backed 
by the further testimony of a bishop, created a new and deep impres- 
sion upon the hearers of Dr. Paul us. Mr. Wood’s face changed 
from contemptuous animosity to grave concern. Mr. Brill looked 
sorrowful and, for once m his life, decided. The creditors with one 
accord took up their bills. 

Then D.r. Paulus spoke again. 

“You are now convinced,” he said, Muth some pardonable tri- 
umph in his voice, “ that Dr. Jacob came among us as no pretender 
to the dignity of Christ’s minister. Whatever sins he may have com- 
mitted — and I own they were many and great— he committed 
under no falsely assumed character, but as a clergyman. As 
a clergyman, therefore, we must judge him. I now call your atten- 
tion, however, before entering minutely into Dr. Jacob’s defalca- 
tions, to the circumstance that some absurd reports have got afloat 
regarding his personal history, and an anonymous letter that 1 re- 
ceived after his arrival in Frankfort has been adduced as evidence 
against him. This letter (I speak on the testimony of the writer) 
was written out of sheer private malice by a lady, with whose name 
Dr. Jacob’s has been often coupled — Madame de Ladenburg. Again,, 
you have heard, doubtless, that he left in company with another 
lady — and she was hinted at one time to be his wife — at another to 
be a less reputable connection. 1 can assure you, on the most in- 
contestable evidence, that this lady is his daughter. 1 have had op- 
portunity of previously forming her acquaintance, and can add, that 
she is a person of eminent good qualities and accomplishments. 
Having so far cleared Dr. Jacob from all charges of falseness— ' 

“ 1 object to the words ‘ all charges of falseness,’ ” broke in Mr. 
Wood, hastily; “ it was falseness to promise payment, and afterward 
break such a promise.” 

“ Having proved, at any rate,” continued Dr. Paulus, “ that he 
appeared among us as no counterfeit of the real coin of gentleman, 
we must now consider his offenses. 1 own their magnitude alarms 
me. For debt is something so degrading, so harassing, so shackling 
to the freedom of a man, that 1 can understand no one obtaining 
the least thing on credit, necessary or unnecessary, without forfeit- 
ing all self-respect and peace of mind. True, that Dr. Jacob’s debts 
are not large; nevertheless, they are large compared with the time, 
circumstances, and means which we must set against them, being all 
contracted in a few weeks, under no pressing need, and with small 
chance of payment. Again, and this is the crowning sin and sor- 
row, we miss one — that one the largest debt of the number. Think 
of it, my brothers, the money that Dr. Jacob had earned in a holy 


202 


DOCTOR eJACOB. 


cause— the money that had been consecrated by prayer, and given by 
chariiable people for the conversion of ening fellow men this 
money went to the vainest ot sei'ular purposes. He was a clergy- 
man, and gifted with marvelous eloquence, sweet graces and 
humanities, a mild, lovable, ineffable manner; he had served the 
Church faithfully under trying circumstances, had prayed^by her 
altars, had blessed and taught her children— this man, so strangely 
gifted, so experienced in the world, so full ot love for others, so 
tender toward the old and the weak, so beautiful of aspect this 
man suffered himself to be tempted of the Devil, and fell! Instead 
of judging him, should we not rather pray for oinselves, seeing that 
we knovv"^ not how we also may be led astray? We must believe, 
looking on all we knowr of his past, we must believe that he halted 
and looked back in the dark, trying to catch the Saviour’s hand on 
those terrible w'aters of temptation. Who wull saj'’ that he should 
have proved himself stronger? And we have lived calmly and in 
temperate atmospheres, having the bread and wine of our homely^ 
lives within reach, and perhaps l>orn with no inherent cravings for 
more. But let me cease, and having spoken out freely, invite all 
who are willing, to do the same. I fully admit Dr. Jacob’s culpa- 
bility, but 1 wmuld urge upon you such circumstances as may 
mitigate jmur indignation against him.” 

He sal down, somewhat pale and over- wrought, for his heart had 
been poured out into his words, and with him excitement was as 
wearing as it was novel. He had moved others also. Mr. Wood 
looked crestfallen. Mr. Brill tw ice rose and sat down again, finally 
delivering himself of a chaotic jumble of w’ords, that had very little 
meaning whatever. A long silence was followed by a w^arm dis- 
cussion, during which, many minor points of this history were 
touched upon, and many extraneous feelings of discord and jealousy 
inadvertent to it were brought forw’ard. The meeting, however, 
ended satisfactorily in the following resolutions: 

Firstly— That all sums collected at the English Church by mis- 
sionary preachers, in future, should be dul}^ taken account of, and 
held in keeping by. the church warden, till its expenditure. 

Secondly — That no clergyman should be suffered to preach with- 
out a previous personal introducuon to the chaplain, consul, and 
clmrch- wardens. 

Thirdly — That no clerg 5 man should be allowed to make subscrip- 
tions, except in the church, and publicly before the congregation. 

Fourthly--Thal a small indemnity should be collected among the 
English for the neediest of Dr. Jacob’s creditors, and that such in- 
stallments as miffht heneetorth arrive from Dr. Jacob, Dr. Paulus 
alone should administer. 

The assembly then broke up. 


CHAPTER LI. 

It is Easter Monday in Vienna, a year after. The stream of vi- 
vacity and national lightness ot heart, which has been frozen dur- 
ing the long Lent asceticism, breaks forth into sudden sunshine, 
and floods the streets with an unceasing ripple of gayety. Truly, 


DOCTOK JACOB. 


203 

there is no second city for pleasantness like Vienna, and it reaches 
the height of its ebullient liveliness in Easter. Whether 3^ou si roll 
along the Grabcn, with its gay shops and painted allegorical shut- 
ters, its streams of omnibuses and droskies, whose horses wear 
gaudy trappings, and whose drivers never raise the pipe from their 
lips save to shout as they turn a corner; or whether you lounge in 
the lonely aisles of living green of the Prater, enjoying its smoofh 
undulating sward, its gleaming islets, its bands of music, its glitter- 
ing carriages and clatter of horses’ feet; or leaving the seven- 
storied houses of the city, its bazaars and arcades, its immacadam- 
ized streets, its princely cafes and hotels, all white and shining and 
warm in the clear sunlight; its towering cupolas, its quiet old clois- 
ter of the Scotch Benedictines, its gigantic barracks, and light 
bridges spanning the ever-curled Danube; its majestic St. Stefan’s; 
its ramparts, and far reaching emerald green Glacis, flanked by pal- 
aces, and shaded here and there by chestnut alle5'^s — eveiywhere 
crop up evidences of that volatile happy humor which renders the 
Viennese the most charming people under the sun, and the readiest 
to seize all Easter Mondays of life by the forelock. 

But among the htppy hundreds of thousands who are seeking 
pleasure within and without Vienna on this festive day, we are only 
concerned with one, and him we find stiolling leisurely down the 
Graben, looking at the group of short-skirted Sclavonian peasants, 
with their holiday headgear of wdiite linen and high leather boots — 
at the gay heap of Easter eggs for the little ones in the windows— at 
the regal Lichtenstein equipage, with its footmen in scarlet coats 
and silver shoulder-knots — at the prett}'^ Hungarian ladies with their 
national braided cloaks and delicate lace shawls, pinned under their 
chins by way of bonnets -at the Imperial carriage, with its tour 
white horses and orange-liveried postilions — at the elegant and 
spiHtueLle Viennese, with their small chiseled features, biilliant 
color, and tall fawn-like figures — at the knots of priests in long 
coals, broad-brimmed hats, and shining top-boots — at the military 
without number, wearing white uniforms and gay facings. 

A smell of incense pervaded the streets, for pravers were being 
said in all the churches, and Dr. Jacob quickened his steps in order 
that he might not lose High Mass in the glorious old Cathedral of St. 
Stefan. He rarel.y entered a place of worship from motives of cu- 
¥iosit3% and abhorred the Romish doctrines; but to-day his spirits 
were strangely out of tune with the joyfulness around him, and his 
nerves, after a long quiescence, had, on a sudden, threatened a ter- 
rible reaction. He felt that some strong excitement was his only 
remedy against extreme depression just then; and being no longer 
young, and no longer able to sun himself in the joy of wine or the 
smiles of women, he turned to St. Stefan’s to be thrilled and moved 
and electrified by the most majestic Uiiisic that the world offers. 

Music is so much a religion in itself, that even the believer who 
stands as far removed from a Romanist as Cancer from Capricorn, 
cannot choose but worship when he hears a “ Benedictus ” or 
“ Gloria ” as it is given on a fe^sti^ al in the churches of Vienna. To 
those who would fain seek from the unfathomable Paternity’' of God, 
a consoling belief that not the creeds but the lives of men will prove 
wings to bear their spirits nearer to him in Eternity, it brings a feel- 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


204 

ingot humiliation and sweet fellowsliip to pray by the side of one 
who adoies the same power in different ways. 

Dr. Jacob paused a few seconds to delight his eyes with the match- 
less and massive grandeur of St. Stefan’s, awed at the towering 
height of it, the gloom and breadth and somber antiquity of it. He 
was pained to see so many gaudy waxyAirgius, and ghastly Sa- 
viours trimmed with paper flowers, marring the rugged Jhough 
powerful bas-reliefs that cover the outer walls. On every spot that 
his eye rested, he saw lepresentations of Apostolic history and monk- 
ish legends with pious ejaculations in barbarous Latin. Having 
contemplated the stupendous tower, with its delicate proportions of 
arch and buttress, standing clear and defiant against the upper sky, 
and the roof, with its red and green tiles softened and mellowed by 
age, he entered, bestowing kreulzers here and there on the wretched 
old creatures who begged and counted their beads in the slanting 
sun. 

Inside, the perfume of incense was rising ’in thick clouds and ob- 
scuring everything. By-and-by, when his eye had become familiar 
with the darKuess, he could trace rich sculpture, fanciful wood-carv- 
ing, altars and tombs of gleaming marble, delicate rose windows, 
lighting up the darkness like stars. He could not make his way tor 
the throngs of worshipers, but stood beneath the stone pulpit of St. 
John Capistran. Silence prevailed — for the host was being ele- 
vated, and all present were on their knees; acolytes in white and red 
surplices were swinging the censers backward and forward. Soon 
the six gorgeously-robed priests retired to their station beside the 
altar, and the daiKness and stillness and gloom were pierced by a 
woman’s thrilling, pathetic voice. She was singing the “ Ave 
Maria. ” Rising from motes of soft but steady passion, the voice as- 
cended to its poise in the upper air, swift and straight like a skylark; 
then, when all the cloggings of earth and humanity were left far be- 
low, it swayed gently to and fro, in sweet pulsations of tenderness 
and entreaty, a messenger between earth and Heaven — God and man. 

Dr. Jacob leaned upon a carved coping of the pulpit stair, and 
mused. He was not subject to impulsive emotion of any kind, 
much less to religious emotion; but he had been living for months 
past with one aim and intent — namely, to turn back the current of 
self-reproach that had set in from his past life, and had failed mis- 
erably. He felt now, as he had once said, that there is no fleeing 
from the silent reproach of God. 

As the strain of that wondrously moving voice fell upon his ear, 
his heart softened. The purity and sweetness of it subdued him 
from his hard mood, and forced him to self-examination. Looking 
down into the clear pitiless waters of the past, he saw there all the 
gaza Trojm, the broken weapons, the dishonored escutcheons, the 
solid armor, the ruined spoils of a life that might have been glori- 
ous, but had been apples of Sodom only. Talent, wealth, friends, 
every gift of fortune had strewn the threshold of hi«5 manhood, and 
he had trampled them like grass beneath his feet. What had he 
done with his youth? What had he done with his fullness and prime 
of years? 

Every one has seen pictures whose first sketch of the master has 
been filled in by his pupils; of Michael Angelo, for instance, with 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


205 

lovely outlines of saints’ heads, and crude backgrounds, wanting 
in all his thought, purpose, and color. Aud so, many noble ideas 
of the great artist have no sooner left his fashioning hand, than all 
is marred, disfigured, changed. Sometliing of this thought was in 
Dr. Jacob’s mind, as he leaned, half dreaming, half thinking, in 
the gloomy nave of St. Stefan’s. The ga 3 ^ety ot the city without, his 
inability* to attune his mind to the prevailing temper, his late mo- 
notonous and quiet life, all these formed so many chords which the 

Ave Maria,” as a key-note, had struck. He entered the cathedral 
In just that mood when men are easily moved to lightness or so- 
briety of mind, and, instead of either, he found himself unwillingly 
foi’ced into the presence of a retributive memory. 

AYhat had he done with his life? 

To that point his thoughts ever returned, and with increasing 
bitterness. In his old age— in the days of failing strength and 
fading grandeur of manhood, he must reap the harvest that he had 
sowm when all the world was smiling on him. Therein lay the 
crow ning self-reproach. JSTo second harvest blooms for the despiser 
of the spring; no'p^ace comes with the whiteness of a dishonored 
winter. He had lived joyously, recklessly, lavishly— grudging 
nothing to others, asking for himself but the homage so willingly 
accorded; seeking atonement for short-comings in duty by undue 
acts of liberality; upholding happiness, and beauty, and ease, at all 
risks; despising life, except tor the enjoyment it yielded him — de- 
spising goodness, even when it hindered his pleasure. 

Destiny w'as too strong for him now. He could resist much ; he 
could not resist the 8low% irrevocable approach of old age and in- 
firmity. His triumphs were over. Others might enter the same 
lists, and break victorious lances in the same cause; foi him there 
remained no more charm of the wmrld or of society. A quiet arm- 
chair, a helpful woman’s ministry, a Bible in large print, a shoit 
slow w’alk in the sun, a little gossip of the world and men atid 
books, a few waifs and strays from the great sea of literature and 
politics — ^these only were needed in the haven of old age into wdiich 
he was drifting. For this he had lived, and other men before him! 

And the end! When the Bible should be shut for the last time; 
when the movements of the outer world, however large aud start- 
ling, should be nothing more to him than to the grass already growl- 
ing in the churchyard; w’hen to-morrow should no longer mean 
light and movement, sights aud sounds, pain and pleasure, but 
stillness, and darkness, aud infinity — how would it tare wdih him 
then? The simple ineffable religion of Christ had of late seemed in- 
sufficient for his great loneliness, his great need. He had entered 
upon new fields of’ speculation and religious theoiy, seeking from 
philosophy what he could not find in the Gospel, losing his own in- 
dividuality in the new luminous atmosphere around him, throwing 
heart, soul, understanding, into one great effort — the effort ot Hope. 

There is no hell he had said to himself; there is no punishment 
for sin, no Satan, no miserable Plereafler; deviation from the right 
is but the fruit of circumstance, the result of character, aud is 
amply canceled by the sorrows and sufferings of life; each soul is 
no property of man, but a particle of the great cycle ot Being, which 
has for its center one head, one beginning, one end, and around 


DOCTOR JACOB. 


206 

which revolve all lesser cycles, gaining, in each phase of motion,^ 
light, intensity, and grandeur. There is no human Birth, no hu- 
man Death, but Lite, Life Omnipotent, and Lite Eternal, in which 
each human unit has a share; sin and sorrow are good and neces- 
sary, forming the night of the moral Universe, at their darkest, 
being illumined with merciful stars, and leaving gentle tears beliind. 

But grand and inthralling as he had found this religious system, 
there was yet wanting something of which he stood in need. He 
owmed to himselt that the Temple he had thus raised was too vast, 
too lofty, too spiritual lor his small human capability and compre- 
hension. He could not weep in it, he could not pray in it; he could 
not iiide his face in it during the hours of weakness and despond- 
ency. 

Ho — the Cross, with its emblematic shame and suflering and after- 
peace; the Man of God, with his sublime simple goodness, and out- 
stretched hands to bless all — ^hands which were pierced because he 
was better than other men; the prophet, priest, and king, who is 
brother alike of the strong and weak, the highly endowed and the 
idiot ; whose life had such sweetness and sadness and solemnity, 
whose death such heroic suffering, whose resurrection such em- 
blematical teaching — here, and here alone, is the best altar for the 
sick heart and fainting soul. 

But he could not kneel before it. He could lose himselt in a 
vague sort of devotional ecstasy anywhere— in a mosque, in a cathe- 
dral, in a synagogue, before a village sanctuary — but he felt further 
than ever from that simplicity of mind which enables one to clothe 
one's inner self with a creed as wdth a garment. 

Without a church, without a home, without a duty— where then 
was his consolation? His capacity tor power and pleasure was al- 
most gone; he was poor, he was lonely — worst of all, he was old. 
He smiled bitterly as he reviewed this introspection, despising all 
humanity in himself, and thinking what a poor thing life was at 
best. Well, there was yet the instinct of existence, the undying de- 
light in common air, sky and the seasons with their fruit. If 
books, if men and the world of ai t grew wearisome, this remained. 
To a temperament so sensuous as his, death could never come like 
a friend. 

He left St. Stefan’s as the last knot of worshipers were disappear- 
ing, and the sacristan's keys jingled down the aisles. Leaving the 
gay Graben to the left, he threaded his way through countless ar- 
cades and bazaars, and entered a gigantic house overlooking the 
Esterhazy palace and the old church of the Scotch Benedictines. 
Having ascended four flights of spiral stairs, he rang the bell of a 
pretty though modest menage. A pleasant -faced landlady brought 
in supper, and hovered about him, petting him in the way which 
all women did naturally. When she had gone, he threw himself 
into an easy-chair, and took up a letter in Elizabeth’s handwriting 
— for Elizabeth was not living with him now\ He had found do- 
mestic life with her unbearably monotonous and full of retributive 
memories, and, seeing him fretted by her very tenderness, she went 
away under some plausible pretext. They had been parted too often 
and too painfully ever to live together in comfort, and she preferred 
to go whilst there yet remained a feeling of affection which could 


DOCTOH JACOB. 


207 

not have eiiclnred continued trials and shocks. Dr. .lacob read her 
letter with alteiuate smile and sigh. She wrote to him from a little 
town on the Rhine, where she had fallen in with some old friends 
— amongst those, him who had been, and was still, her lover, and 
she told him scraps of Frankfort news. He read, Katchen was about 
to marry, and none other than her old master, good, ugly, gaunt 
Professor Beer; then he read how Baron Josef had engaged himself 
to a young Jewish lady with an enormous fortune, and how the 
baroness had again appeared in Frankfort, taking the lead of the 
greatest circles, and having suitors innumerable at her feet; then he 
read of the Brills, of the good Dr Paul us anJ of his sick wife, of 
the little schoolmistress, Fraulein Fink, who had just married her 
niece, pretty Hannchen, and of others whom he had dazzled and 
dismayed a little while ago. 

A little while ago! It seemed like a dream to him now — the last 
dream of so many, and perhaps the fairest. lie put the letter aside, 
hoping that he might never hear of that time again; regretting that 
of all the rich gifts bestowed upon him at his birth the power of 
forgetfulness had been withheld. He could still enjoy, he could still 
think, he could still act; hut he could not forget, and recollection 
was less bearable than intellect without faith, solitude without hope, 
old age without love. 


THE END. 


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487 Put to tlie Test. Edited by Miss 

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254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

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283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

988 From Gloom to Sunlight,.,.... 10 


291 Love’s Warfare... 10 

292 A Golden Heart 10 

293 Tlie Shadow of a Sin 10 

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295 A Woman’s War 10 

296 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Hilary’s Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

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300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

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303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

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304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

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306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

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307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

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308 Beyond Pardon , 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation. 20 

460 Under a Shadow ....- ^ 

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466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

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608 The Girl at the Gate 10 


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186 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 

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166 Moonshine and Marguerites.... 10 

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968 Lady Gay’s Pride; or, The 

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269 Lancaster’s Choice 20 

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345 Madam 20 

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527 The Da\ s of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

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228 Princess Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

239 Signa 20 

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186 The Canon’s Ward 20 

343 The Talk of the Town 20 

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331 Gerald 20 

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46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 

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210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
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213 A Terrible Temptation 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 20 

216 Foul Play 20 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy... 20 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

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235 “It is Never Too Late to 
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252 A Sinless Secret 10 

446 Dame Durden 30 


TEE SEASIDE LIBBABT.-< oM Edition, 




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109 Little Loo 20 

180 Round the Galley Fire 10 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate.. 10 
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302 Tlie Ahbot. (Sequel to “ The 

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853 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
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862 The Bride of Lammermoor.. .. 20 

863 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

364 Castle Dangerous 10 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak 20 

393 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley 20 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth; or, St. 

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418 St. Ronan’s Well 30 

463 Redgauntlet. A Tale of the 

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507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 
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848 FVom Post to Finish. A Racing 

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367 Tie and Trick 20 

550 Struck Down 10 

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533 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
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562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail- 
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270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 

270 The Wandering Jew. PartH..^ 

271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part I. 20 
271 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

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165 The History of Henry Esmond. ^ 

464 The Newcomes. Parti 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part H ^ 

531 The Prime Minister (1st half).. ^ 
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141 She Loved Himl 10 

148 ao 


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93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
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147 Rachel Ray 20 

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100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 20 
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395 The Archipelago on Fire 10 

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256 Mr. Smith: A Part of His Life. 20 
258 Cousins 20 

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192 At the World’s Mercy 28 

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286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand.... 20 

482 A Vagrant Wife ^ 

556 A Prince of Darkness ^ 

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451 Market Harborough, and Inside 

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513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

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514 The Mysterj^ of Jessy Page, and 

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247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish, A Tale.. ... 10 

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71 A Struggle for Fame. Mrs. J, 


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61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs, Row- 

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99 Bai’bara’s History, Amelia B. 

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103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10 

105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G« 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond, T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 


120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 
&«gbv, Thomas Hughes ... 30 


THE BEASIBE LIBRARY.—PocJcet Edition. 


Miscellaneous — Continued. 

0il Maid of Athens. Justin Mc- 
Carthy 20 

122 lone Stewart. Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

127 Adrian Brigrht. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Daugrhter. From 
the Russian of Pusiikin 10 

160 For Himself Alone. T. W. 

Speight :10 

161 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

16y The Starling. Norman Mac- 
leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tyt- 

ler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 
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163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 30 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An .Amril Day. Philippa Prit- 
tie Jephson....' 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 

of a Life in the Highlands. 
Queen Victoria 10 

179 Little Make-Believe. B. L. Far- 

jeon 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

198 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 
O Rell IG 

218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 

219 Lady Clare: or. The Master of 

the Forges. From French of 

Georges Ohnet 10 

242 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. . 10 
257 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

273 Love and Mirage; or, The Wait- 

ing on an Island. M. Beth- 
am-Ed wards 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 

Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

279 Little Goldie: A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. M *s, Sumner Hay- 
den 20 

285 The Gambler’s Wife 20 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 

898 Mitchelhurst Place. Margaret 

Veley 10 

Ul Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

£. Dana, Jr 80 


313 The Lover’s Creed. Mns. Cash- 


el Hoey 20 

314 Peril. Jessie Fothergill 20 

322 A Woman’s Love-Story 1® 

323 A Willful Maid 20 

327 Raymond s Atonement. E. 

Werner 20 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann Chat- 
rian lO 

330 May Blossom ; or, Betweel Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

335 The White Witch 20 

336 Philistia. Cecil Power 20 

338 The Family Difficulty. Sarah 

Doudney 10 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Lil'Je 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminal y, 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

352 At Anj’ Cost Edward (jarrelt. 10 
354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 


355 The Pjincess Dagomar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Ciiristy; or. The For- 


tunes of a Minstrel. Tony 

Pastor 20 

366 The Mvsterious Hunter; or, 
The Man of Death. (3apt. L, 

C. Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The bead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 
The author of “ My Ducats 
and My Daughter’’ 10 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

383 Introduced to Society. Hamil- 

ton Aid6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

399 Miss Brown. Vernon Lee 20 

403 An English Squire. C. R. (Dole- 

ridge 20 

405 My Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren lO 

407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood. .. 20 
4^ Ven«s’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor. 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBBARY.— Pocket EdUion. 


Miscellaneons— Continued. 

429 Boulderstone; or. New Men and 


Old Populations. William 

Sime 10 

430 A Bitter Reckoning?, Author 

of “By Crooked Paths . 10 

432 The Witch’s Head. H. Rider 
Haggard 20 

435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany... 10 
460 Godfrey Helstone. Georgiana 

M. Craik 20 

452 In the West Countrie. May 

Crommelin 20 

467 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 

458 A Week of Passion ; or, The 

Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 20 

462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. Lewis Carrol 

With forty-tw'o illustrations 
by John Tenuiel 20 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 

of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

473 A Lost Son. Mary Linskill 10 


474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 

479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 

4^ Betwixt My Love and Me 10 

485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

492 Mignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. Il- 

lustrated. J. S. Winter 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 

Malet 20 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord” 10 

512 The Waters of Hercules 20 

504 Curly; An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

505 The Society of London. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

509 Nell Haffenden. Tighe Hopkins 20 

518 The Hidden Sin 20 

619 James Gordon’s Wife 20 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

534 Jack. Alphonse Daudet 20 

536 Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
drew Lang 10 

540 At a High Price. E. Werner.. 20 

545 Vida’s Story. By the author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ”. ... 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 10 


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531 The Prime Minister. By An- 
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533 Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh. 20 
657 To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 


E. Braddon 20 

558 Poverty Corner. By G. Alanville 

Fenn 20 

559 Taken at tlie Flood. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

560 Asphodel. Miss M. E. Braddon ^ 

561 Just As I Am ; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail- 

road of Life. By Frank E. 
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563 The Two Sides of the Sliield. 

By Cliarloite M. Yonge 20 

564 At Bay. By Mrs. Alexander... lO 

565 No Medium. By Annie Thomas. 10 

566 The Royal Highlanders ; or. The 

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568 The Perpetual Curate. By Mrs. 

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569 Harry Muir. By Mrs. oiiphant 20 

571 Paul Crew’s Story. By Alice 

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572 Healey. By Jessie Fotliergill.. 20 

573 Love’s Harvest, B. L. Farjeon 20 

575 The Finger of Fate. By Cap- 

tain Mayne Reid 20 

576 Her ]\Iartyrdom. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne ” 20 

577 In Peril and Privation. By 

James Pay n 10 

578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 


Verne. Part I. (Illustrated).. 10 

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580 The Red Route, By William 

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586 “For Percival.” By Margaret 

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587 The Parson o’ Dumford. By G. 

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588 Cherry, By the author of “A 

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589 The Luck of the Darrells. Bj’^ 

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590 The Courting of Mary Smith. 

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592 A Stransre Voj'age. By W. 

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593 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H, ■ 

Riddell 20 

594 Doctor Jacob. ByMissBetliam- 

Ed wards 20 

595 A North Country Maid. By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 

596 M.y Ducats and My Daughter.. 20 

597 Haco tlie Dreamer. By Will- 

iam Sime 10 

598 Corinna. B.y“ Rita.” 10 

599 Lancelot Ward, M. P, By 

George Temple 10 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated) 10 

601 Slings and Arrows, and Other 

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author of “Called Back” 10 

602 Camiola: A (>irl With a Fort- 

une. By Justin McCartliy . . . 20 

607 Self Doomed. By B. L. Farjeon 10 

608 For Lilias. By Rosa Nouchette 

Carey 20 

609 Tlie Dark House : A Knot Un- 

raveled. By G. Manviile Fenn 10 


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ALL THE LITTLE AFFECTIONS OF THE 

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NEW FAMILY COOK BOOK. 

BY MISS JULIET CORSON, 

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PRICE: BANESONELT BOUBE IN CLOTH, $1.00. 

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« 

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How to Prepare Relishes and Savory Accessories, Picked-up Dishes, 
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How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Pan* 
cakes, Fritters and Fillets^ 


Miss Corson Is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
have been carefully tested in the New York School of Cookery. If her direc 
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The following works contained in The Seaside Library, Ordinary Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, 
on receipt of the price, by the publisher. Parties ordering by mail will please 
order by numbers. 


MRS. ALEXANDER’S WORKS. 

30 Her Dearest Foe 20 

30 The Wooing O’t 20 

40 The Heritage of Langdale - 20 

370 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

1231 The Freres 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

1391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1502 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

1721 The Executor 20 

1934 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid 10 

WILLIAM BLACK’S WOliKS. 

13 A Princess of Thule 20 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

47 In Silk Attire 10 

48 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton 10 

51 Kilmeny • • • 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBBARY.— Ordinary Edition. 


63 The Monarch of Mincing Lane 10 

' 79 Madcap Violet (small type) ^ 10 

604 Madcap Violet (large type) 90 

242 The Three Featliers 10 

390 The Marriage of Moira Fergus, and The Maid of Killeena, 10 

417 Macleod of Dare 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

668 Green Pastures and Piccadilly 10 

816 White Wings: A Yachting Romance 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sti-urise: A Story of These Times 20 

1025 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1032 That Beautiful W" retch 10 

1161 The Four MacNicols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands 10 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

1556 Shandon Bells 20 

1683 Yolande 20 

1893 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love Affairs and other Advent- 
ures 20 

MISS M. E. BRA^DDON’S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd 20 

69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

114 D-cirrell Mark ham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 26 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

261 Lady And ley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead -Sea Fruit 20 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

469 Rupert Godwin 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Qrdina/ry Edition. 


481 Vixen 20 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft • 10 

525 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

639 A Strange World 20 

550 Fenton’s Quest 20 

662 John Marchm^nt’s Legacy 20 

572 The Lady’s Mile 20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

734 Dlavola; or. Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II 20 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 20 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf ^ . . . . 20 

1638 A Hasty Marriage (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

1715 Phantom Fortune 20 

1736 Under the Red Flag - 10 

1877 An Islimaelite 20 

1915 The Mistletoe Bough. Christmas, 1884 (Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon) 20 

CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE’S WORKS. 

3 Jane Eyre (in small type) 10 

396 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 20 

162 Shirley 20 

311 The Professor - 


THE SEASIDE LIBEARY.— Ordinary Edition^ 


329 Wutbering Heights. 10 

438 Villette..o 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall ^ 20 

1008 Agnes Grey < 20 

LUCY RANDALL COMFORT’S WORKS. 

495 Claire’s Love-Life 10 

552 Love at Saratoga 20 

672 Eve, The Factory Girl 20 

716 Black Bell 20 

854 Corisande 20 

907 Three Sewing Girls 20 

1019 His First Love 20 

1133 Nina; or, The Mystery of Love 20 

1192 Vendetta; or. The Southern Heiress 20 

1254 Wild and Wilful 20 

1533 Elfrida; or, A Young Girl’s Love-Story 20 

1709 Love and Oealousy (illustrated) 20 

1810 Married for Money (illustrated) 20 

1829 Only Mattie Garland 20 

1830 Lottie and Victorine; or, Working their Own Way 20 

1834 Jewel, the Heiress. A Girl’s Love Story 20 

1861 Love at Long Branch; or, Inez Merivale’s Fortunes 20 

WILKIE COLLINS’ WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 20 

14 The Dead Secret 2(5 

22 Man and Wife 2® 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

38 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek 20 

76 The New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 2(^ 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Ladj^’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue’s Life o . ^ c 10 


THE 

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THE BEST AKEBICAN HOUE MAGAZINE. 

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The New York Fashion Bazar is a magazine for ladies. It contains 
everytliing which a lady’s magazine ought to contain. The fashions in dress 
which it publishes are new and reliable. Particular attention is devoted to 
fashions for children of all ages. Its plates and descriptions will assist every 
lady in the preparation of her wardrobe, both in making new dresses and re- 
modeling old ones. The fashions are derived from the best houses and are 
always practical as well as new and tasteful. © 

Every lady reader of The New York Fashion Bazar can make her own 
dresses with the aid of Munro’s Bazar Patterns. These are carefully cut to 
measure and pinned into the perfect semblance of the garment. They are use- 
ful in altering old as well as in making new clothing. 

The Bazar Embroidery Supplements form an important part of the maga- 
zine. Fancy work is carefully described and illustrated, and new patterns 
given in every number. 

All household matters are fully and interestingly treated. Home informa- 
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have each a department. 

Among its regular contributors are Mary Cecil Hay, “The Dpchess,” 
author of “ Molly Bawn,” Lucy Randall Comfort, Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne,” Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Mhi.er, Mary E. Bryan, 
author of “ Manch,” and Florence A. Warden, author of “ The House on the 
Marsh.” 

The stories published in The New York Fashion Bazar are the best that 
can be had. 

We employ no canvassers to solicit subscriptions for The New York Fash- 
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THE CELEBRATED 

iOBKIl 

aMND, SQUARE AlTD UPRiaHT PIANOS. 


1 



ARE AT PRESENT THE MOST POPULAR 

AND PREFERRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. 

SOHMKR & CO., Manufacturers, No. 149 to 155 E. 14th Street, N. Y. 


They are used 
in Conservato- 
ries, Schools and 
Seminaries, on ac- 
count of their su- 
perior tone and 
unequaled dura- 
bility. 

The SOHMER 
Piano is a special 
favp' ’’e with the 
lea g musicians 
and critics. 


FIRST PRIZE 

DIPLOMA. 

Centennial ExHibi- 
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1881 and 1882. 


The enviable po- 
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Manufacturers is 
solely due to the 
merits of their in- 
struments. 


I 


FROM THE 
NERVE -GIVING 
PRINCIPLES OF 
THE OX-BRAIN 
AND THE GERM 
OF THE AVHEA'l' 
AND OAT. 

BRAIN AND NERVE FOOD 

VITALIZED PHOSPHITES 

Is a standard with all Physicians who treat 
nervous or mental disorders. It builds up 
worn out nerves, banishes sleeplessness, 
neuralffiaand side headache. It promotes 
good digestion. It restores the energy lost 
by nervousness, debility, or over-exhaust- 
ion : regenerates weakened vital powers. 


“ It amplifies bodily and mental power to 
the present generation, and pi-oves the sur- 
vival of the fittest to the next.”— Bismarck. 


‘‘ It strengthens nervous power. It is the 
only medical relief I have ever known for 
an over- worked brain.”— Gladstone. 


“ I really urge you to put it to the test.”— 

Miss Emily Faithful. 

F. CROSBY CO., 56 W. 26th St., H. Y. 

For sale by Druggists, or by mail $1. 



Munro’s Publications, 

THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 

POCKET EDITION. 


MISS M. E. BRAl»l>ON’S WORKS. 


85 Lady Audtey's Se- 
cret 20 

56 Phantom Fortune. . 20 

74 Aurora Flojd 20 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 
1.58 The Golden Calf. ... 20 

204 Vixen 20 

211 TheOrtoroon 10 

284 Rnrbara;or, Splen- 
did Misery 20 

263 An Ishniaeiite 20 

SloThc Mistletoe 
Hough. Edited by 
Miss Krnddon.... 20 
484 Wyllard’s Weird.. 20 
47Sl>iavoln; or, No. 
body’s Daughter. 

Part 1 20 

478 Diiivola; or. No. 
body’s Daughter. 

Part II 20 

480 Married in Haste. 
Edited by .Miss M, 

E. Rraddon 20 

487 Pnt to the Test. 

Edited by Miss .M. 

E. Hraddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s 

Daughter 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. ... 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 


496 Onlr a Woman. 

Edited by Miss M. 

E. Krnddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile... 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Cloven Foot... 20 
51 1 A Strange World . . ‘20 
515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 
524 Strangers and Pil- | 

grims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife. 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

544 Cut by the County; 

or, Grace Darnel . 10 

648 The Fatal Marriage, 

and The Shadow 
in the t'orner. . . . 10 

649 Dudley Carleon; or, 

The Brother’s Se- 
cret, and George 1 
Cnnlfleld’s Jour- i 

ncy 10 I 

552 Hostages toForlnne 20 “ 

658 Birds of Prey 20 , 

554 Charlotte’s Inher- 
itance. (Seqnel to 
“Birds of Prey.”) 20 I 
657 To the Hitter End. 20 i 
559 Taken at the Flood 20 

.560 Asphodel 20 

561 Just ns I am; or, A 

Living Lie 20 


Any of the above works will he sent by mail, postpaid, 
on receipt of the price. Address 


GEORGE MFNRO, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 8751. 17 to ‘27 Vandewnter St., N. Y, 












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